


Playing Hero

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Harry gets tied up a lot, Humor, M/M, Parody, Romance, and kidnapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Voldemort becomes an object of desire to anyone in his presence the moment he takes form of his 16 year old self from his diary. Suddenly, Harry Potter starts attracting the same attention from everyone around him, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All of this Brooding is Giving Me a Headache

**Author's Note:**

> This fairy tale is a parody I wrote about Harry Potter and its fan fiction. It is a satire, not meant to offend anyone. Please don't take it too seriously.

"Let's drag him in here," yelled Dudley Dursley, pointing to the decrepit abandoned home at the woodsy patch on the opposite side of the park. Leading the way, he was being closely followed by Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon towards the home. These four boys just happened to all go to Smeltings and were all a part of Dudley's terrible bully gang that terrorised everyone in school as well as most everyone they lived by. In their grasps, a smaller boy with jet-black hair was being trudged along with them, looking to be carried very much against his will.

Looking up at the rickety old door as Dudley kicked it open, Harry Potter heaved in a well needed deep breath; something he hadn't been able to do after being punched repeatedly in the ribs over the last hour. "What's going on?" he managed to wheeze out, eyeing his cousin's sinister grin with worry.

Dudley snarled at his undersized cousin as he held the door open for his four mates to drag him inside. "Gordon said you were looking at his arse earlier, you pouf. We're gonna teach you a lesson about checking us out!" He grinned, delighted in watching Harry's features contort into aghast fear.

"I did not! Let me go or I swear I'll tell the Order, Dudley!" yelled Harry, thrashing about in the clutches of the four boys holding him tightly by his arms and legs.

"Take him upstairs and keep him quiet, I've got to go home and tell mum that me and Harry won't be home tonight," said Dudley to the others, wagging his eyebrows mischievously at his friends.

* * *

Standing over his followers in deep discussion on the ultimate and permanent removal of Muggle-loving old fools, Lord Voldemort glowered outwardly and blushed inwardly at all the 'under the breath' cat-calls and kissing noises directed his way. Not certain who exactly was making the noises, the rude gestures were flying from every direction it seemed, he ordered all masks to be removed at once. "Stop it. Stop making those noises! This is serious business," he cried, feeling slightly less powerful in his new body; that of his 16 year old self, stolen from the destroyed diary Lucius Malfoy had retained once again.

Noting the wolfish looks on more than half his follower's faces, male or female, Voldemort cringed. "Meeting adjourned. Get away from me this instant!" He walked quickly to Lucius' side and grasped his upper arm. "Can I talk to you for a moment?' he whispered.

The handsome blonde's lips curled into a seductive smirk, his eyes scanned over the delicate fingers circling his arm. "Of course, my Lord. Would you like to talk somewhere more private...perhaps my chambers?"

Voldemort goggled at him. His hands slipped away as he backed up a pace, feeling quite defeated. "This was a really bad idea, Lucius. No one is taking me seriously anymore. Not just that, they’re acting overly strange; as if I have some sort of mystical allure to them that was drawing them to me unnaturally. How can I get my old body back? You know, the really intimidating one that everyone averted their eyes to and feared to speak my name." he said with a sigh, gazing down at his beautifully shaped hands.

"Impossible I'm afraid, sir. This is your body now. You'll just have to learn to deal with it." Lucius loomed over the boy while he unconsciously wiped a bit of drool from his chin. “We’ll all learn to deal with it.”

* * *

"Bloody hell, not now," groaned Harry. His scar lit up white hot, further obscuring his already blurry vision. He would have doubled over if he could have, but being tied to a bedpost prevented that from happening. He gritted his teeth to hold in the impending scream, not willing to give the four boys glaring back at him the satisfaction of thinking they had caused his discomfort.

"What's the matter, Potter? Can't control those lustful urges?" chided Malcolm, glowering at the boy. "You looking at my arse?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He laughed to himself at the helplessness of the four cronies, fearful of making any moves without their pig-of-a-leader there to direct them. He only hoped Aunt Petunia would disallow his request, at least for him, to stay the night at Piers. Certainly she would know Harry would never want to do something that ridiculous.

The pain in his scar flared up in intensity then, driving him to yelp loudly and uncontrollably. All four boys jerked their heads back toward him nervously as his cries filled the room. "Be quiet, Potter!" shouted Piers.

His hands clenched into fists behind his back to take his mind away from the pain, wishing badly he could just rub his scar for a moment to help ease the suffering. He dug his bitten fingernails into his palms as the pain lingered. It seemed that Lord Voldemort was very upset about something.

"Why isn't he gagged? I could hear him out in the park!" yelled Dudley. He huffed and puffed to catch his breath as he fell over onto the old, dust-covered mattress on the four poster. Gordon stood up abruptly with a look of intimidation on his face. Harry opened his mouth politely as the larger boy stuffed it with his dirty handkerchief. Might as well not upset the toadies any more than they seemed.

"Guess what, Harry! Mum said we could spend the whole weekend at Piers's house," said Dudley with a snicker, and Harry's heart began to beat wildly in his chest.

* * *

Lord Voldemort rubbed his forehead as the impending pain began it's ritualistic dull throbbing once again. "That Potter brat needs to do something other than worry all the time. I swear that's all he ever does anymore," he said to Lucius, who in turn flitted his eyes over his Master sexily. Over the last month or so, every instance of that wretched boy's worries began to take a toll on poor old Voldemort, showing up in the form of a mind numbing headache.

"Let me kill him for you, Master. I can make it all better," he pleaded, falling to his knees in front of the beautiful black-haired boy.

Voldemort stared down at him, jaw dropped open, not knowing what to do. He shook his head and whirled around. He walked quickly to his wardrobe and flung the doors open. He really needed to get out of there. "I...I think I need a little holiday. I deserve it, right? I mean...yes, I think I'm going to go away for a short time."

"But where?!" cried Lucius as he crawled over to his master on his hands and knees. He prostrated himself as he reached his perfectly beautiful feet, worshipping them with his eyes. "Whatever I've done to upset you, I'm sorry! You- you should punish me, Master! I've been so naughty!"

"Huh?" exclaimed Voldemort. He jumped back in horror at the innuendo, unable to rationalise why all this sudden attention was directed at him. He had wanted his young body back, he desired it, yes, but merely for a longer lifespan. He had honestly forgotten how deliciously handsome he used to be or how turned on he used to make his followers whenever he was in their presence. He had lost it so quickly after Hogwarts, dabbling in the dark arts, even at his sexual prime the only thing that had mattered then was power. Only power.

Lucius began tracing his fingers over his Master's toes as he licked his lips to keep them moist and puffy. "You could stay at my place. I've got loads of room, Master. My son and wife will be there...but I can send them away, that's not a problem."

Rearing back in complete horror, Voldemort waved his wand over the wardrobe hastily. A large trunk flew out and landed on his bed, filling with neatly folded clothing plunging themselves into it. "No, I think I'll just go somewhere private, maybe get myself used to this new body. You understand, right, Lucius?"

The Dark Lord's second in command propped his head up on his elbows, pouting up at his master. "Well, no, I don't. But you are the master, I suppose it's okay if you take a bit of time for yourself."

* * *

Malcolm stood face to face with Harry studying his features. "He looks kinda like a girl. No wonder he acts like one, looking at my arse all the time..." he said to the others. Harry groaned in frustration. He was NOT looking at any of their flat or fat arses, and no girl had most assuredly done that, either. And he certainly did NOT look like a girl.

"Yeah, he's a pretty boy. All poufs are. Look! He just looked at your arse as you walked away, Malcolm!" cried Gordon, pointing at Malcolm's arse.

Harry spit the wad of dirty cloth out of his mouth. His sudden strange allure to people was really becoming a drag. "You wish. I would never, ever, ever look at any of your arses!"

Dennis reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey he'd nicked from his father's liquor cabinet. "Look what I've got!" He held it up like a symbol of deity and everyone ‘ _ooh'd_ ’ and ‘ _ahh'd_ ’, clearly impressed.

All five boys huddled up and began passing the bottle around, taking generous swigs of the whiskey between fits of coughing at it's awful taste. Harry leaned back into his bedpost with added worry, it was bad enough he was trapped with them but now they were getting pissed. Nothing good would come from that.

* * *

"You little bastard, get over it!" whimpered Lord Voldemort, pressing his fingers over his temples to numb the ache. "Nothing in your pathetic life could be so worrisome."

He stood at the end of the street corner, not exactly sure where he had apparated to. Nothing looked familiar to him, he couldn't remember where he had concentrated on when he cast the spell either. The area looked quite Muggle in appearance. Houses lined the street looking exactly like the one next to it. A woman in a car stopped at the corner and stared through slits at him. Tempted to pull his wand free and hex her into oblivion, he opted to toss her a rude gesture instead. She gawked at him and snapped her lips together as she drove off.

He looked down at himself and sighed. No wonder she was glaring at him, he was dressed up in his ceremonial robes. No Muggle could ever understand the significance or the beauty they represented. With a sigh, he pulled it off and folded it over his arm. No need to attract more unwanted attention, he'd had way too much of that earlier that afternoon to last a lifetime.

He stood there now in a pair of thin woollen trousers and a crisp linen shirt and tie. Glancing down the street he spotted an empty park that suddenly looked very inviting. In his whole lifetime he'd never visited a park, as much as he'd wanted to. A childish smile lit up his face as he nodded to himself. With his trunk safely shrunk in his pocket, he walked shamelessly towards the fun-looking area intent of gaining back some lost time.

* * *

"I swear with every sip I take he gets prettier and prettier. I think he just winked at me," said Piers. He winked back up at the boy struggling desperately to get free who was clearly not looking in his direction at all.

"Yeah, he sure is a cutie. Maybe he's really a girl and he's been tricking you, big D," said Gordon.

Dudley grimaced at them. "You guys are really foul, you know that?" He reached up behind him and punched Harry in the gut to make him stop moving so much. "He's a boy. I've seen him naked before. He's a boy for sure."

"You have?" enquired Dennis, swiping surreptitious glances at Harry's hot little body.

Harry tried to spit the handkerchief back out but the piece of rope that was tied between his teeth held it in quite effectively. His scar felt like it might burst open soon. He moaned in his throat hoping someone might take pity on him, no longer caring if his noise was buggering them all.

Malcolm crawled over to Harry on wobbly knees. Resting in front of him, his hand crept up Harry's bare leg to stroke the hem of his shorts. "Maybe we can see him naked too. It's not fair that only you've seen him, big D," he murmured, ignoring Harry's whimpering at the intrusion.

"I agree!" said Dennis, clamouring over to Malcolm's side to see what was making Harry squirm around so much. Piers and Dudley shared a look of * _shock_ * briefly, but turned around to see what their friends were doing anyways.

Malcolm began fidgeting with the fringe hanging off the cut-off shorts, twisting the threads around precariously close to Harry's groin. Harry hopped up and down in place as much as the bindings would allow, unaware he was only exciting the boy more. His head was spinning out of control. The pain in his scar, the blurred vision from loosing his glasses, the fear pounding in his heart as the pissed boys began to fondle him was too much to handle. He began to scream into his gag, thinking maybe someone might hear him. Someone needed to come and help, anyone.

His head lolled forward as a wave of searing pain scrambled his brain, a vision from Lord Voldemort clenching his fists in front of his eyes flashed in his head. He tried to speak, seeing through the Dark Lord's eyes, watching him look up to the very abandoned house he was tied up in. Harry looked down at the two boys kneeling in front of him unzipping his shorts, numb to their actions anymore. His eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped against the ropes in a dead faint.

* * *

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Lord Voldemort snapped his head to his right, facing the decrepit old house. The sounds of muffled cries rang out from the broken window on the second floor. His head pounded with pain, compiling with the horror-filled flashes of terror resounding from Harry Potter's mind. He stumbled off the swing he sat on, cupping his forehead with his hands. Each cry sounded more desperate, and each time he'd look at the house the pain only increased in volume.

His breath came out in heated puffs as the insight opened itself up for him to see. He looked around at the street again. Muggle homes - in a Muggle town. Why would he have come here of all places? What was he thinking about when he apparated? A small smile lit up his face then. He was thinking about that nosey, snotty, interfering little nuisance Harry Potter, that's who.

The pain suddenly and abruptly stopped stabbing into his brain then, giving him a thorough start. He looked back at the house thinking if it might start again as it had before, but it didn't. He began walking towards the home, unsure why at first, but needing to know what was upstairs beyond that window. He pulled his wand free and held it at his hip as he entered the bashed in front door.

Several voices emanated from the upstairs. Voldemort began climbing the steps quietly, not wanting them to know he was approaching. The act of surprise was always the best way to access a situation, and access it he would. Sounds of kissing noises and light aggravated moaning filled the stairway. His heart beat quickly thinking maybe, just maybe the source of his headaches was up there. He could almost feel a magical signature radiating out into the stairwell.

"Put him on the bed," said Dudley. He stood over his followers, crossing his arms, spitting orders out like a drill sergeant. Gordon and Malcolm quickly began untying the knots holding the smaller boy to the ceiling-high post while Dennis and Piers held him steady. They tugged his shorts away as the ropes to his ankles were removed, leaving him clad in an oversized t-shirt and his knickers. Dudley was clueless, absolutely dense about everything other than making things bleed. "Why'd you take his shorts off?"

Harry groaned in pain as he tried to open his eyes. The pulsing heat from his scar worsened briefly, then relented it's suffering as excitement flooded his veins. He smiled as the makeshift gag was yanked away from his mouth to let him breathe again, and giggled under his hand the very second he was allowed to touch his face, mimicking of the boy outside the door.

"He does that sometimes, ignore it. Mum says he's nutters." Dudley motioned for Gordon to help carry him, who complied hurriedly by grabbing Harry's legs and lifting him over to the filthy mattress. "Now let's just beat him up and go. I don't want to waste being this pissed on dumb old Harry. That party down the street at April's house needs to be crashed, don't forget."

Dennis and Malcolm gasped lightly, very much not wanting to simply beat him up and go. "We'll stay with him, Dudley. He shouldn't be left alone anyways. You three go on," blurted Malcolm. He clutched Harry's wrist harder to hold him down. Dennis did the same to his other wrist.

Lord Voldemort listened intently at the door as the two boys pleaded their case to stay with Harry. He shuddered with excitement. Harry was really inside, he was in there with only a few worthless Muggles standing between them and him. He peeked in as they talked, eyeing Harry lying flat on his back in the spread eagle position, being held by four of the eeriest looking boys he'd ever laid eyes on.

A sudden swell of pity, mostly in the form of a headache, filled his heart. Harry looked so utterly frightened and disorientated. Sort of how he looked that night in the graveyard when he was surrounded by himself and thirty Death Eaters. He also looked slightly...no. Voldemort shook his head to clear it. Harry did not look sexy. He was a stupid skinny little boy who enjoyed tormenting him. He looked back at his legs. Long, long legs quivering under the hands holding them to the bed. "Pretty," he whispered in his hand, then pinched himself, unable to believe he'd just said that.

Dudley shrugged and leaned over the bed to snarl at Harry. "You're going to have to crawl home tonight after they're through with you," he taunted, laughing heartily at the boy over his fate, stupidly unaware that he'd most likely only be able to crawl if they got to what they really wanted from him. He stood back up and walked to the door with Piers and Gordon in tow.

"Dudley! Don't leave me here, they're-" Dennis clamped his hand over Harry's mouth as the semi-coherent boy became suddenly very coherent and realised what they had planned for him.

Lord Voldemort tiptoed into the darkness of the hall anxiously to let the three unwittingly smarter Muggles pass without being seen. Dudley looked back at Harry once more without any understanding and shrugged. "Stop being such a baby. I thought you were this really powerful...well, you know! - Good bye, Harry!" he shouted and left the room.

Malcolm grinned wickedly as he turned his attention back to his prey. He scuttled to climb on top of him while Dennis held him down, entranced and inebriated beyond rational thought any longer. He entwined his legs over Harry's thighs and leaned in closely to his face.

"You even think about kissing me, I'll bite your tongue off," hissed Harry. He jerked forward assertively with a look of pure hatred on his face.

' _I should stop this,_ ' thought Voldemort. He peered back inside as the two boys loomed over their victim, licking their chops, tossing out terrible threats of what they planned on doing to him. The large boy on top was leering down at him. The pain plunged back into his head, along with the feeling of sudden fearfulness in his heart. Not enjoying that emotion one bit, Voldemort straightened up and stepped into the room with his wand at his side.

Harry looked over and squinted to focus better on the new boy entering the room. His scar burned as his eyes locked onto the intense dark eyes looking down at him. Dennis and Malcolm turned around and growled at the intruder. "Who are you?" they both cried, holding Harry down harder to keep him steady.

"He is mine," he murmured, hypnotised by the boy on the bed. Had he never noticed how stunning he was before? He had certainly grown, those legs could wrap around his waist and lock on over his hips for hours...He looked up as the large boys began to shift off of the bed. Dennis twisted Harry's arms behind his back as he wrenched him off of the mattress to use as a shield.

Malcolm wagged his eyebrows at the taller but weaker looking boy, guessing that this must be Harry's cute little boyfriend since he was looking at him the same way they were. He puckered his lips at the luscious beauty and cocked an eyebrow. "You want to join us, honey? We weren't going to hurt your little boytoy...much. You're more than welcome to come help us."

"What?!" Taken aback at their lack of fear and the stupid look on that boy's face blowing him kisses, Voldemort held his wand up letting a shower of violent sparks shoot up into the air. Only Harry seemed to flinch at them. Brow furrowed, he curled his lip in a sneer. "That boy is mine. Let him go and I'll let you both walk out of here on your legs."

"If you don't want to share you can just leave," said Dennis. He wrapped his arm around Harry's neck and yanked him up against his chest. He gripped under his chin then as Harry struggled to break away. "Are you with this bloke here, Harry?" He shook Harry's head for him roughly and looked up at the new boy with a grin. "See? He says he doesn't want you here - so bugger off!"

"No wait! He can stay, Dennis. He's quite...striking, like the other little bender here is. I want him- To stay, I mean. Maybe we could have them touch each other - or touch us." Malcolm reached out to Voldemort with his hands, groping, wanting very badly to touch that flawless skin but Voldemort heaved in a deep and furious breath. Oh no, Muggles weren't going to humiliate him like his own flipping Death Eaters had.

"Blow kisses at me will you? - _Crucio_ -!" he shouted, pointing his wand in Malcolm's direction, hitting him square on with the curse. He snorted out loud, watching him double over in pain and screaming so loudly he plugged his ears. Dennis balked and dropped his arms from Harry. Voldemort whirled around and pointed his wand to him before he could run. "And where do you think you're going? - _Crucio_ -!" he screamed again. Dennis squealed like a pig as he toppled back against the bed, flailing around like he was on fire.

Harry fell to his knees but Voldemort grabbed his hand and hauled him back up. "Let's get out of here," he said. He dragged Harry from the room, leaving the curse to burn away at the minds and muscles of the two Muggles.

Dragging the smaller boy out past the park and into the wooded area, he slowly began to realise Harry was not only following him willingly but didn't seem to know who he was yet. The fear-filled headache drifted away into feelings of relief with each step. "Wait!" shouted Harry, giving his hand a tug and looking back at the park. "My glasses fell off over there, I need them-"

"No time for that," said Voldemort, not wanting to lose this lovely opportunity to kidnap Harry Potter away before he realised who was stealing him.

"Where are we going? Who are you?" he asked. He yelped as broken twigs and rocks cut into his bare feet as they ran through the woods. The boy holding his hand refused to let go but he didn't care, he had rescued him from certain assault after all. He let himself get dragged further into the darkness without any of his questions answered.

Voldemort looked around carefully for any other signs of life before stopping. He threw Harry against a tree then and pointed his wand at him. "Don't move, gotta make a portkey." He spotted a soda can lying on the ground and pointed his wand at it. "- _Portus_ -!"

Harry stood is confusion, not really understanding what was happening. “I don’t need a portkey, I live just up the way.”

His hand was grabbed, yanking him away from the tree. "On the count of three, we touch this together," said the taller boy, shoving Harry to his hands and knees in front of the can.

"No," Harry shook his head, "I’m not going with you."

Rolling his eyes, Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry. "Have it your way then. - _Stupefy_ -!" He clasped his hand with Harry's, lacing their fingers the moment he fell to the ground, and reached out with both of their hands touching the portkey.

* * *

"Er..." Lord Voldemort walked into his private bedroom with the unconscious Harry over his shoulder but stopped dead in his tracks. Lucius was lying on his bed with a mound of his knickers and undershirts piled around him, holding his favourite pair up to his face.

Lucius bolted upright, undies flying around the room as he pathetically tried to conceal them. "My Lord, you're home so soon!" he exclaimed.

"Oh Merlin, okay, I did not just see that," he replied, but looked sheepishly at the floor. "Umm, go away, Lucius. Don't tell anyone I'm home either."

Lucius ran over to him as he noticed the body he was carrying. "Who's that!?" he cried, pain-filled eyes looking over the barely clad form of the boy's backside and shapely legs. "Is this why you won't come over? You've got someone new..."

"This is Harry Potter, you fool! I've just done what you've been trying to do for years. I went out and caught the little brat!" he spat, and tossed Harry onto his bed.

"Oh, it is him! There's the scar! He's gotten bigger." Lucius leaned over the stunned boy intently with a furrowed brow. "What are you going to do with him?"

A shooting pang of jealousy hit him, watching Lucius tracing his finger over Harry's scar. "Mine!" he growled, then snapped his mouth shut immediately after as Lucius looked up at him with sad puppy-dog eyes brimming with tears.

Lucius fell to his knees in front of his master. "We could kill him together, Master. It would be beautiful. You and me, together. We could try one of those ancient ritualistic lovemaking spells that sucks the life right out of him while we writhe around in ecstasy on your bed." He snapped his head over to Harry's body again, glaring daggers at him for lying there so comfortably; like he owned the place or something.

"Ancient ritualistic lovemaking incantations? Is there even such a thing?" He stepped over Lucius to look at the books adorning his library shelves.

"Oh, of course there is, Master." chimed Lucius as he crawled behind Voldemort on his hands and knees. "Steal his power, drain his life-force, kill him. I’m sure I’ve read about that somewhere. Maybe it was in a movie, I don’t know."

"Poor Lucius." Voldemort bent down and cupped his beloved Death Eater's chin with his hand. He looked nervously at the gorgeous blond, wishing he's stop making him feel so bloody uncomfortable about his new body. "I want to be alone for a little while. I wasn't able to have my holiday as you can see. I'm not entirely used to this whole thing. Do you think..."

Lucius held completely still with baited breath. His mouth fell open in his master's hand as his glittering dark eyes peered into his own. "Anything, Master," he mouthed, unable to find his voice.

The sounds of impatient knocking at his door gave him a start. "Master, are you in there?" shouted Wormtail. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day about us taking up a hobby. I've taken up sketching and was hoping you'd possibly model for me. Us! We've all taken up sketching you see, we're all out here needing a model."

Voldemort swallowed hard in his throat and turned his attention back to Lucius. "Do you think I could stay at your private chateau for a few weeks - alone? I mean, after I've figured out what to do with Potter here. I haven't decided yet."

"I'll take him, sir. I can keep him frozen until you get back. I won't harm him if you don't want me to," he replied. His hand reached out to touch the hand holding his chin, but Voldemort pulled it back quickly and stood up.

More angry knuckles began pounding on the door, vibrating it on it's hinges.

"No, I'll just take him. You know how clever and lucky he is. I can't afford him a chance to escape, he'll have to come with me." He walked over to Harry and lifted him up in his arms. He glanced back at the door and hugged Harry tight into his chest to hide his obvious panting. "Good lord, I need to get out of here, that door's about to fall down."

Lucius pointed his wand at the soda can he sat on the bedside table. "Can I come visit in a few days, Master? I promise I'll be very discreet!"

"Fine, yes, please hurry, Lucius!" huffed Voldemort, cringing as the door began to bow from bodies thrusting up against it.

"- _Portus_ -!" cried Lucius, turning the can into a portkey once more. "Go!"

"We just want to sketch you, Master!" screeched Bellatrix, her eye piercing right at him through a crack in the door.

"She’s breaking in!" Voldemort lunged at the can while laced with one of Harry's hands. The door burst open as they touched it, but the normally hated tug behind his navel made him feel very good right then.

* * *

Landing inside the main hall of the small chateau, Lord Voldemort tumbled forward, off-balanced from the weight of carrying Harry in his arms. He landed directly on top of him and looked down at the soft face of the sleeping boy beneath him. He lifted himself up on his hands and hovered over him for a moment, the urge to lean back down and touch those puffy pink lips crossing his mind.

He shook his head again but the thought remained. He leaned in closer, then cringed, feeling very much like those naughty boys that had Harry pinned under them. "I'm…I'm Lord Voldemort. I don't need to steal a kiss from anyone let alone ~ _you_ ~. I command wizards twice as powerful as you to bend to my will!"

He cringed again. He sounded like a sodding fool. He stood up, leaving Harry on the floor and walked around the chateau deep in thought about his plans for his new prisoner.

 


	2. Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort starts feeling emotions he's never experienced before during his holiday at Malfoy's chateau while spending large amounts of time with his captive, Harry Potter.

Harry paced back and forth in the bars of the cage he had woken up in. He growled like a wild animal, baring his teeth at the blurry man standing in front of him. "At least give me some clothes to wear! Or do you get off on watching me walk around in my skivvies? Gods, I'll bet you do." He wrapped his arms around himself and stood in place, scowling.

Voldemort shook his head, chuckling. "You're not intimidating in the least standing in a cage wearing nothing but a little t-shirt and knickers, I think I prefer you better this way. You look really pathetic and weak.”

"So, who are you anyway? Some sort of junior Death Eater-in-training? Let me guess, your big goal in life is to deliver me to your repulsive master so he'll allow you to bow down and kiss his arse all day. Am I close? Striving for that mind-sucking tattoo to show off to your mum?" Harry spat on the floor in front of him, clearly revolted. “You’re all the same…”

"Repulsive...what do you know about Lord Voldemort, pretty boy?" he shouted back, pushing his face between the bars.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh, aren’t we brave, saying your master's name out in the open like that. They must have forgotten to teach you how to fear him because Merlin knows how bloody frightening he is," he taunted, rolling his eyes. “At least physically.”

"That's it!" Voldemort pulled his wand out from his trouser pocket and unlocked the cage door. Harry stepped back a few paces, guessing he'd said a bit too much. "I'm coming in there to kick your arse."

With a bemused chortle, Harry clenched his fists watching the taller boy enter the cage and thrust his wand back into his pocket. He looked up - way up at the boy who was now aggressively looming over him. He gulped. The boy was really tall, almost as tall as Lord Voldemort himself.

Voldemort smirked at the sudden shift in power between them. He gave the boy a little shove. "Yeah, not so brave now, are you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not afraid of-"

“Stop trying to start a fight, Potter!” Voldemort threw him up against the back of the cage and held him by his shoulders. "Listen to me, I've just had the worst week of my life and the last thing I need to hear right now is snotty little backtalk coming out of your mouth." He leaned in, pressing his forehead hard against Harry's when a light flicker of magic set off a painful shock between them, causing them both to flinch. Their hands flew up to their foreheads to rub the sting away.

"What was that?" Harry asked through his teeth, his scar burned under his hand. He looked up at the tall boy again, closer this time as a trace recognition popped into his mind. "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"I did," said Voldemort. As much as he'd love to keep the facade of being someone else up, he knew Harry wasn't unintelligent. He'd figure it out sooner or later. “That’s where we met.”

"Did? You can’t be much older than me, well without my glasses it's hard to tell exactly." Harry squinted as he stared up at the pretty face very closely. So familiar. Dark eyes, jet-black hair.

Harry was right in front now, looking very cute that close up. Voldemort swallowed hard and leaned in a bit so his nose grazed the messy mop of black hair. Inhaling his scent, he sighed. “Oh, uh sorry,” he said, cringing and taking a step backwards. “I meant we’ve met before, we’ve just never been properly introduced without some sort of distraction happening to put a stop to the pleasantries.” Voldemort cleared his throat and looked back at the boy he’d just decided he didn't want to kill right away anymore, feeling his stomach clenching with hunger. "Have you eaten? I could get take-away."

Harry shrugged. “Starving, actually.”

"I’ll get us something." He stepped out of the cage and slammed the door shut. He turned around and looked back, giving the caged boy a grin. "Don’t go anywhere."

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, yaay, Death Eater humour, always fun to hear.”

* * *

Sitting on the floor outside of the cage, Lord Voldemort propped his elbow on a knee and leaned his head on his hand while he watched Harry pick at his dinner. "Not hungry?" he asked him, finding himself doing the same.

"You're kind of staring at me," murmured Harry. He sat with his knees tucked under his t-shirt, arms wrapped around them, staring back at the black-haired boy. “It’s a little unnerving.”

"Oh." Unnerving people used to be his speciality but for some reason it seemed wrong doing it to Potter at that moment. “Sorry, I’ll turn around.”

Harry shrugged. "But thanks, it looks good, smells good."

Voldemort gestured to his plate. "Then eat it, it's getting cold."

Harry looked down at his plate. He was hungry enough to eat anything and, of course, the food sitting next to him smelled so good he nearly drooled down his chin. Unfortunately, his silly Gryffindor pride refused to let him eat like a dog in a cage for the boy on the other side to gawk at. "No, thanks. I’m good."

Voldemort sighed. "What's the matter. It's not poisoned or anything. If I wanted to kill you I would have done so hours ago."

"I know that," said Harry.

"Then eat it. It's poulet rôti, a simple dish for common folk. I thought of you when I got it." He snickered to himself but Harry just stared back at him.

"Looks like chicken to me." Harry crinkled his nose up, pretending he had no desire to eat it.

“Oh, I get it.” With a pang of empathy, Voldemort understood finally. He picked his plate up and unlocked the cage door. "Come eat with me in the dining room," he ordered, cocking his head to the doorway.

Harry picked up his plate and glass of wine up as he stood. "You sure? What if your master finds out?"

"Shut up and get moving or I’ll tell him to come by and do it for you," he said, giving the boy a nudge.

* * *

"So, when exactly did you decide you wanted to throw your life away and become a nameless servant to a snake-headed Half-Blood?" said Harry, slurring between large gulps of his sixth glass of black wine.

Voldemort pursed his lips. "When will you realise your Headmaster is a sick old fool who's ideas about a world breeding with Muggles will get us all killed off?"

“How will that get us killed? There are hardly any Pure-Bloods left to procreate with. Seems to me that’s the way to end up wizardless, don’t you think?”

“By diluting our blood with Muggle people? No, you’ve got it backwards.”

Harry stopped bantering as he looked around the lavishly furnished room, only just noticing it. His eyes scanned over plaques and crests covering the walls and china, all adorning the name 'Malfoy' on them. His breath began to accelerate as he realised he was in the Malfoy holiday home. A moving photo of the immediate Malfoy family hung to his right, all three members glared back at him for sitting in Lucius's head chair.

"What's the matter, Potter?" said Voldemort, hiding his giddiness under his napkin as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth.

Harry looked back at him, giving Voldemort a severe throbbing pain in his temples. "This place, this is Malfoy's home."

"Yes, it is. He said I could use it for a few weeks. I've taken a holiday."

"Holiday? But Malfoy…he's a high ranking Death Eater. He wouldn't lend his home to..." He paused in confusion and licked his swollen, cherry stained lips, leaving them parted with panting breaths. "Does Lucius Malfoy know I'm here?"

Voldemort nodded. "Yes, of course he knows you're here, Harry. Why do you think he lent me the place?"

Harry swallowed hard and licked his lips again, entrancing Voldemort as his tongue played along his teeth. His voice got quiet. "And...and Voldemort? Does he know?"

Again, Voldemort nodded as he snapped out of his blatant stare, delighted in watching the remainder of Harry's blood drain from his face. "Yes, he knows all too well that you're here. He brought you here, himself," he boasted, unable to hide his smirk.

"He did?" Harry was breathless, panting as the realisation set in that he truly was in very big trouble. He fell forward and gripped the edge of the table for support as his throat closed up from the tight ball forming within it. Too many glasses of wine, too many bad things happening in a short period of time. The world was starting to spin.

Voldemort sat forward with a cringe, feeling slightly penitent. They were having such a lovely time he’d forgotten about the situation they were really faced with, hadn’t considered how the boy might react once he fully understood the circumstances.

"Hey, it's okay, Harry. Calm down, they aren't going to hurt you." He reached out to pat his shoulder but Harry flinched back.

"What do you mean - are you mad? Of course they're going to hurt me!" he cried, staring at the boy in shock. He dropped his head in his hands, mumbling incoherently. The names Dumbledore and Dursleys could be made out but everything else was burbled under his breath. He sat back up, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed into slits. "How did you manage to find me anyway?"

Voldemort shrugged. “I have my ways.”

"Oh, I'll bet you're so proud of yourself. So you know, I never wanted to be a part of this, I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t choose to be their supposed saviour." he said, looking quite disgusted. "Can't you just kill me now? I don't know anything! ‘ _Be a good lad and win the war for us but we’ll keep you in the dark about all of the details, that's our boy!_ ’ They won't tell me a goddamn thing because the bastard can read my mind!" He was trembling with fear and anger, unable to think clearly any longer.

Voldemort was entranced. Harry looked beautiful in a fretful sort of way. He stood up and seized the boy by the arms, catching him by surprise. "Calm down, you’re hysterical, Potter. I won't allow them to hurt you."

Harry shook his head with confusion, the strength of the wine overtook the remnants of his clarity. "What? Who are you?" His knees buckled under the strain. First Dudley's gang, then being kidnapped and now this. His vision went spotty before darkening. All coherent thought faded away.

Voldemort scooped Harry up into his arms the moment the befuddled boy passed out. The Dark Lord’s charred black heart began to beat for something other than power for the first time in his life. He studied him as he cradled him in his embrace. It was meant to be, clearly they were made for each other. Nothing had ever touched him this way before. No one person had ever been as close in practically every way. The idea of killing him now was as far from his mind as anything had ever been, the old thought quickly replaced by the determination to create something between them that was the direct opposite of hate.

* * *

"Not much of a wine drinker, are you?" Voldemort made a face as Harry clutched the toilet again, seeing his knuckles turn white from gripping it so hard as he plunged his head inside the bowl.

Harry whimpered as the newest wave of nausea lurched forth. He shook his head as he sat back on his heels to recover. His fringe was plastered to his face from sweat, his eyes watered from retching. "Never drank anything before," he panted, catching his breath. “Unless Butterbeer counts.”

Voldemort shook his head. "I'll have to keep that in mind. It hadn't occurred to me you were only 15."

"I'll be 16 soon, in...I don't know, what day is it?" He tipped his head back as Voldemort rubbed his face with a damp cloth to wipe the remaining vomit and sweat away.

"It's 27 July, four days," he replied.

"Yeah, if I live that long," Harry said, shrugging.

Voldemort smacked his leg with the cloth. "I told you to shut up about that. Now let's find you something else to wear. You got sick all over your t-shirt."

They stumbled back into the bedroom on shaky legs, Voldemort holding him under his arms for support. He sat the boy down on the edge of the bed and walked to the wardrobe. Every single article of clothing hanging inside was made of the finest materials, all tailored for Lucius. It would probably swallow Harry up but he had little choice. Grabbing a pair of silky pyjamas, he tossed the shirt to Harry and ordered him to take his clothes off.

Harry pulled his t-shirt off and dropped it on the ground. He nearly got one of his arms into a silk sleeve but fell to his side as sleepiness took over. Voldemort huffed and stomped over to the bed and buttoned it up. "Good enough," he muttered, and hauled Harry up to the head of the bed. He grabbed the bottoms up and stripped down. He pulled them up over his hips and smiled as they hugged against his skin. He walked to the door and looked back at the pretty boy, wishing he could stay in the room with him.

He shrugged. Why couldn't he? He locked the door and walked back over to Harry's side. He pointed his wand at a book on the bedside table, transfiguring it into a pair of handcuffs. "Sorry, Potter," he whispered as he shackled the sleeping boy's left wrist to the bedstead. "Can't trust you to not go for my wand. You'll understand, I'm sure." He climbed over him and laid down on the opposite side of the enormous bed, tucking his wand under his pillow to fall asleep watching the boy beside him so it was the last thing on his mind as he fell asleep.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the foyer of his chateau. His hair was tussled, his clothing torn in several places. He spit the remnants of Veritaserum out, thankful he got away before the others had a chance to get the location of his holiday home. He reached into his cloak pocket and retrieved the shrunken bottle of champagne and bouquet of white roses his master was always so fond of. Returning them to their original state, he tiptoed through the house to seek him out. Passing the empty cage, he frowned. Maybe that Potter kid had escaped. Maybe his master was hurt, maybe dead! He panicked and dashed off looking for any signs of a disturbance.

Seeing his private bedroom door locked he yanked his wand free from his cane and unlocked the door. He eased it open, turning the knob as he pressured the balance with his shoulder.

Harry was sitting up in bed. His free hand slipped into the front of Voldemort's pyjama bottoms. Lucius stood in horror watching the boy lean in closer, groping deeper under the waistband as his master's face lit up with an adorable smile. "Mmm, yeah. Just like that, baby." Harry gasped at the Dark Lord, his hand frozen in mid exploration beneath the shiny material.

Lucius threw the door open in a frenzied blaze of fire. "How dare you!" he exclaimed, catching Harry off-guard and startling Voldemort awake. The Dark lord sat up, pinning Harry's hand in his lap.

"What's going on?" Voldemort snapped his knees together. Harry jerked back , trying to get his hand free - but it was stuck. Defeated and terrified, he sighed and fell forward into his pillow; one hand handcuffed to the bedstead, the other still sandwiched between the other boy’s thighs.

Voldemort looked over to Lucius and held his finger to his lips. Lucius nodded. "Harry," he whispered, easing the boy's hand and laying it down next to him. "Mind telling me what you were doing?" Harry sighed and muttered something unintelligible. Voldemort and Lucius only shook their heads in confusion. "What was that?" he asked again.

Harry looked up at him in humiliation. "I said I was looking for the key! There, happy?" He dropped his face back onto the pillow.

"Are those my pyjamas?" Lucius exclaimed. He dropped the flowers on the ground. "You're both wearing my pyjamas with your hands in each other's knickers in my bed!"

"He's gonna kill me," Harry whimpered, burying his head further into the pillows.

"Lucius, give us a moment," Voldemort said. He looked at the bottle of champagne hanging in his hand and smiled. "Oh, how sweet. For me?"

"Not anymore," he grumbled and slammed the door as he left the room.

Entwining his fingers in the mass of jet-black hair, Voldemort lifted Harry’s head away from the pillow. "Why were you looking for the key?"

"Because I have to use the loo really bad.”

Voldemort sighed and pulled his wand out from beneath his pillow. "Why didn't you just wake me up?" He waved his wand over the handcuffs and they fell away, turning back into a book as it hit the floor.

Harry dashed off into the toilet and slammed the door.

* * *

Half an hour later Voldemort stood impatiently outside of the door, knocking on it for the fifth time. "Are you coming out?"

"No," said Harry.

"Why not? I saved your life, remember? Why don't you trust me?"

"Because you kidnapped me, locked me in a cage and made me sleep next to you while handcuffed to Lucius Malfoy's bed, that's why!" screamed Harry back at him.

“That’s my job.” Voldemort shook his head. "And I'm not the one who put my hand down your pyjamas!"

"I was desperate!"

Voldemort's jaw dropped open. "Get out here this instant or I'll break the door down!"

Harry threw the door open and stood there in his over-sized silky blue pyjama top looking very angry. "How come you can order Malfoy around like he's below you if you aren't even a Death Eater yet?" He grabbed Voldemort's left arm and flipped it over looking for the Dark Mark.

Voldemort pulled his hand away. "None of your business. Now get back in bed. I need to talk with him- alone!"

Harry relaxed a bit, seeing the bouquet lying on the ground. "He brought you flowers. I think I get it now."

"Oh, shut up," Voldemort ordered. He gripped Harry's arm and dragged him back to the bed. Transfiguring the book back into handcuffs, he wrenched both of Harry's hands above his head to lock him back up. "Now keep quiet and just go back to sleep or something!"

Dropping his head back into his pillow after watching him leave, Harry chewed on his bottom lip. Malfoy was here, it would only be a matter of time before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his appearance.

* * *

Lucius paced around his parlour looking quite depressed. The more he thought about his master the more he wanted to cry. Never before had the man given him much reason to divert all his attention to him. What was he thinking? He was a married man for Merlin's sake! What if Narcissa decided to pop in and entertain a few guests? It wouldn't be unheard of.

And his son, Draco, he was absent. Off skiing on the Alps with his friends. He'd been known to show up unannounced with ten or fifteen people to have a good time at his expense. He felt like he was doing something very naughty, hiding his gorgeous master in his holiday home and keeping a kidnapped boy prisoner along with them. Perhaps he was.

"Lucius?"

Whirling around, he stood in front of his master who was still clad only in pyjama bottoms. With a relaxed sigh, the worries drifted away as he glided over to him and knelt to kiss his hand. "Did you kill him?" he said, batting his eyelashes. “Please say yes.”

Voldemort snorted and shook his head. "No, stop that talk, Lucius. He's- damn he's giving me another headache. I need to figure out a way to put a stop to that." He rubbed his temples but Lucius slapped them away and began massaging them for him.

"Again, I'm pretty sure they'd stop if you - Okay, I’ll stop asking." He looked away as Voldemort glared at him. He massaged Voldemort's forehead with gentle fingers until he moaned as the pain faded away. "Better, my Lord?"

"Yes, thank you. Now, sit and listen, I have something interesting to tell you." Lucius dropped down in a chair as Voldemort sat across from him. "It's so amazing. That boy has no idea who I am. None whatsoever. I'm not going to ruin the fun yet, so don't spoil this for me."

"What is he, an idiot?" said Lucius, tilting his head in confusion. "How can he not know? Who in the hell does he think you are?"

"Er, yeah that. He sort of thinks I'm a Death Eater-in-training who’s sleeping with you to let me use your chateau," he confessed, shrinking down in his seat.

Lucius smiled. "Oh, I like that story. We should prove it to him. I mean, you know, to keep up the facade. Then we can give him to Draco. Yes, Draco would be very keen on that. He'd love having that little prat as a pet. He always said if he ever got his hands on him-"

"Lucius," Voldemort said, sighing. "I thought you were a married man. And who's watching the Death Eaters right now? They could be in my room touching my stuff. You should really be getting back, don't you think?"

With a sob, Lucius looked down at his clothing. "I had to escape, they hurt me."

"Oh, no!" Voldemort stood up as Lucius did, embracing his hysterical second in command with a comforting hug. "There, there. I'll make them pay for what they did to you." He petted the long silky white hair pressed against his upper body coaxing Lucius to let it all out. “Tell me what happened.” Lucius clutched on very tightly, nuzzling his cheek up against that flawless pale flesh to milk every ounce of sympathy he could. He massaged up against his hairless chest. His tongue darted out, but before he could stop himself Voldemort felt it and shoved him away. "Hey, I was trying to be nice!" he cried, wiping tears and saliva off of his pectoral muscles.

"I'm sorry," he said, sniffling and hiccoughing in uncontrolled spurts. "I just can't help myself around you. I don't know why!"

Voldemort smiled at him. "Why don't you come back in a few days after you've made certain everything is going well. I just can't trust those psychotic maniacs alone for too long. Plus, I want to hear news of Potter's disappearance. I want everything, who they think has him, what happened, etcetera. Okay?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius wiped his face with his sleeve and disapparated away.

* * *

Lord Voldemort waved his wand over Harry releasing him from the bed. He pointed to the bathroom. “Get in there, get cleaned up while I look for clothes."

Harry walked to the toilet. He turned to look back at the other boy with intrigue. "Where's Malfoy? Isn't he-"

"He left. I told him to leave us alone for a few more days," he said, gazing through the wardrobe against the wall. He held up several articles of clothing that would swallow Harry up and barely cover his calves. "Oh! Forgot I brought a truck." He ran to his cloak and pulled his trunk out.

Harry watched him as he sifted through his clothes, his eye catching the gem-encrusted embroidered ceremonial robe of black and forest green velvet. "What's that? Looks familiar."

"I thought I told you to get cleaned up," Voldemort said, shoving the robe into the bottom of his trunk.

"What's your name?" asked Harry, standing his ground in the doorway. "You never told me."

Voldemort's eyes grew huge. "Erm...my name? It's- it's Tom," he said, keeping his attention at his trunk.

"Oh, okay then," said Harry, stepping into the bathroom. He stopped and turned. "Tom what?"

"You don't need to know every goddamn thing about me, Potter." He pointed to the bathroom again.

Harry closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes wishing he had his glasses. Orange light filled the white room. Harry looked out the small window. The sun was setting just above the trees. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the warmth comfort him.

His eyes snapped back open.

He looked up again.

He was standing in front of a window without bars on it.

* * *

Rifling through Lucius' only child's room, Voldemort found several things that would probably fit Harry a lot better. He walked back into the master bedroom listening to the shower running, watching the steam billow out from under the crack of the door.

He sat on the bed while fidgeting with his wand, waiting for his turn to use the loo. The headache was gone, he felt almost giddy inside. ' _Harry must be in good spirits_ ' he thought to himself. He remembered seeing an adjoining bathroom in Draco's room and walked back out, locking the bedroom door behind him.

Freshly showered, Voldemort walked back to the bedroom dressed to the nines and unlocked the door. He froze, still hearing Harry’s shower running knowing he’d been gone nearly an hour. Surely Harry wasn't as meticulous with hygiene as he was.

Voices rang out behind him, giving him a start. Someone else was in the chateau with them. He clutched his wand and hurried out into the parlour, shocked as he walked into Draco and his two friends Crabbe and Goyle. All three were looking quite inebriated and obnoxious. They were holding half full bottles of wine in their hands, chatting and staggering as they attempted to wipe the floo soot from their ski outfits.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, looking the taller boy up and down over his pointy nose. He took a large swig of wine and wiped his face with his sleeve as he approached the handsome boy.

Voldemort swallowed hard. He looked back at the master bedroom down the hallway. "I'm umm…a friend of your fathers. He said I could stay here for a few weeks." His eyes remained locked onto open the bedroom door praying Harry didn't walk out.

Draco threw on a seductive smirk. "Are you one of my father's little whores? He doesn't normally allow them to stay here when he's away. They’re typically women, if I recall correctly." He reached out, pressing his palm flat against The Dark Lord's pectoral muscle. "Mmm, nice and firm. I’ll give him that, he does has exquisite taste."

Goyle gave him a wink. "Yeah, sure does, he's a pretty one." He and Crabbe moistened their mouths with drool as Draco curled his lip up in a lusty snarl. All three boys reached out at once, unable to control themselves.

"Did you just call me a-" Voldemort slapped their hands away. "Touch me again and I will hurt you. Got it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I see Father still likes them sadistic, too. C’mon, boys, let's go to my room."

Lord Voldemort turned, needing to get to the bottom of why Harry was still in the bathroom.

Watching him walk away, Draco nudged his friend. “We’ll get him later when he isn’t expecting it. What a honey.”


	3. Deeply, Madly, Prettily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how many times Harry does something to drive him mad, Lord Voldemort falls deeper in love with The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Unlocking the lavatory door with his wand, Lord Voldemort’s worst fears were confirmed; the window on the west wall stood wide open. Harry was gone.

The sky was growing dark, the sun had set fully. Thrust into a panic he grabbed his cloak and ran to Draco's bedroom, poking his head through the open door. The boys sat on a bed playing a not so friendly game of Exploding Snap. "Can you tell me what's outside of here? I portkeyed here and well Har-　 _my friend_ went for a walk and hasn't come back yet. He's got an hour's head star-　 _I mean_ , he's been gone for an hour. I was wondering if there was anywhere he might have been able to esca-　Gods, _I mean_ reach, you know...to call for help or something…get away. Ugh." He tried to remain innocent looking with his flooded confessions but none of the boys either cared or noticed.

"Umm, just a lot of woods, hours from any sort of civilisation," said Draco, tossing a card at Goyle as it exploded.

Voldemort’s eyes lit up. "Ah, great! Er, that's terrible, I hope he's all right. I'll have to go find him."

"Want us to help?" asked Draco, fanning the awful smell of burned hair away from his nostrils. Crabbe cringed as Goyle fell off the bed, then shrugged.

"No, I can find him. You stay here. Thanks, though." Voldemort ran out to the back door, leaving it wide open as he surveyed the angle from the window to the woods. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and headed in the direction where all the brush had been disturbed.

* * *

Harry held in his sobs, determined not to cry. There was no turning back now. Tom would kill him if he caught him. Wolves bayed at the moon, brambles snagged his pyjama top and cut into his bare legs. Dead leaves crackled with each small step. His scar had been burning for nearly ten minutes, causing him worry. Perhaps Voldemort had found out he'd escaped and was angry. Maybe he was looking for him, maybe he punished Tom for being too thick to lock the window in the toilet.

He stopped dead in his tracks feeling guilty. What if - hundreds of scenarios ran through his head. He could have just gotten that boy killed for escaping. Tom, albeit being a Death Eater sycophant, was a pretty decent bloke who did save his life. “Sod it," he murmured and trotted off again. He ignored his lack of shoes and clothing. He'd been in worse situations, he could get through this.

* * *

Voldemort snarled as he followed the broken twigs and bramble, thinking of all the horrible tortures he was going to inflict on Harry once he caught up with him. He couldn't have gotten very far, not the way he was dressed.

Harry cupped his forehead with his hands. His eyes were useless anymore; the pain blinded him and the darkness swallowed up everything else. He knew someone was following him now, he could hear them in the distance shouting his name. He didn't care. He knew once they caught him he'd be killed.

"There you are," whispered Voldemort to himself, spotting Harry stumbling through the woods.

Harry yelped in pain as his scar seized up all remaining energy and will left in his body to keep him moving. Without being able to see, he knew there could be only one person in the world standing behind him now. His hands dropped to his sides and his head fell forward in defeat. “Just get it over with.”

Lord Voldemort sucked on his teeth looking down at the boy in front of him. "You’re wandering around out here in the darkness in middle of nowhere in your knickers like a git." He pointed to the chateau. “Start walking.”

"You?" Harry cried, looking up behind him to see Voldemort but seeing Tom instead. "But I thought- where's Voldemort? I know he’s here!"

“You really are that stupid, aren't you?” Voldemort said under his breath. "I said move it, Harry," he ordered, but the boy's expression began to change as if he was beginning to understand. Voldemort panicked and plunged his hand in his pocket for his wand.

* * *

"I see you found your friend."

Voldemort froze, unable to determine which direction the voice had come from. He pulled Harry into his embrace and covered his face up with his hand. He looked behind him and spotted Draco standing in the kitchen with him.

He tossed on a fake smile and nodded. "Yes, he's asleep, very tired. Must get him to bed. If you'll excuse me." He tried to push past but Draco blocked his path.

"Is this another one of my father's rent-a-tarts? He looks nice. Take him to my room, boy, I need some company tonight.”

Voldemort's jaw dropped. "I said he was tired," he repeated. He glanced around the kitchen and spotted a tea cloth. Dropping it over Harry's face, he turned back around. "Go away, this isn't one of your father's playthings; he's my boy. Understand?"

Draco blinked. "Do you know who I am? Give me that boy right now or I'll make sure Father hears about this!" He stepped forward as Voldemort stepped back. And for a moment he thought his eyes flashed blood red, giving him second thoughts about separating the two boys for the evening. "Okay, okay…you can keep him- tonight. I'm tired anyway. I do expect to see him tomorrow though, as I'll be staying here for a week with my friends and I always get my way." He reached out and stroked Harry's limp arm, smiling. "Well, good night, prostitute-boy," he said, still leering at the unconscious boy as he walked away.

* * *

The soft sounds of pleasant sleep irked Lord Voldemort to no end. There was no peace for him, no happy slumber to be had. He paced the floors, wearing holes into the Persian rugs, deep in thought. It seemed every single time he’d think of a suitable way to get out of this mess he'd created, Harry would make some sort of noise, causing him to lose the brilliant vision forever. The thought of throwing a pillow over his face occurred to him more than once but he didn't want to endanger the newfound trust the boy seemed to be showing him. Having personally kept him out of the clutches of Draco Malfoy and his two best friends over the last few days, Harry was now looking upon him with slight trust.

A loud knocking at the door snapped Voldemort's eyes to the sound. He knew who was on the other side and what he wanted. The game would have to end soon. Draco was becoming a very serious problem anymore.

"Hey, Tom!"

Harry sat up quickly, shaken from the loud words. His breath came out in quick puffs, his hands gripped the sheets covering him. "You're not going to let him in, are you?" he whispered, eyeing Voldemort for answers.

"No, of course not, go back to sleep," he whispered, keeping his eyes locked on the door. Inwardly, he dared the haughty boy to try and open it. It would be quite refreshing to take a bit of frustration out on the spoilt brat. The same spoilt brat he allowed to call him a series of derogatory slurs over the last few days. Whatever he said it was pushed away in order to keep the identity of the 'mystery guest' hidden. He couldn't permit Draco knowing that Harry Potter was being held captive in his house.

Draco leaned against the door cackling, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hand. "Is your little twink still in there with you? I think you both might want to hear this!" he shouted at the door. "My father sent me this paper, it's got an article about Lord You-Know-Who in it. He says you might want to see it, Tom, for whatever reason. He said you'd be　 ** _very_** 　interested in it."

Voldemort flinched. Harry sat up, preparing himself for the article to be read. His eyes darted back and forth between Tom and the door with keen interest, watching every tiny bead of sweat form over the other boy's brow. "Shall I read it then?" shouted Draco, a soft titter in his voice was plainly heard.

“What's a twink?" Harry asked. Voldemort held up a finger to silence him.

"Draco, I'll be out in a moment," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy in his bed. Harry sighed and slumped down into the bedding in defeat. "I'm afraid this might be something you shouldn't hear yet. Just go back to sleep like I told you."

Voldemort opened the door careful not to allow Draco any sight into the room. He closed and locked the door, then gave the wicked blond a rough shove into the hallway. "I've killed finer people than you for much less than this. What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Er," said Draco, looking up at the returning glowing red eyes boring holes into him. "what my father told me to do. Give his friend this paper." He held it up with a nervous hand.

The paper was snatched away and the blond was dragged into the kitchen with him. Draco was shoved into a chair. Voldemort pulled another up in front of him and sat heavily down in it. Unrolling the paper, his eyes honed in on the lead story.

 **Lost in Love** _: A story of pain and heartache from a Death Eater who asked us to call him Tormwail. By Rita Skeeter_

_He sits in the shadow for fear of revealing his true identity. A Death Eater, he calls himself, although this reporter cannot see the likelihood in that. He slumps in his chair, his hair spiked up in dirty tufts, reflecting his prowess upon the future._

_"I love him," he says through deep heart-felt moans of sorrow, "he means everything to me." I watch as his silver hand brushes crocodile tears away from his chubby cheeks. Pools of them have escaped his grasp, forming a drizzle between the saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth, now running down into the collar of his lovely black robe._

_"He left a week ago. He promised to be back soon. We're all waiting for our beloved master to return to us."_

_Rumours and speculations about an erroneous affair between the Dark Lord and Mr. Lucius Malfoy have run rampant around the darkened circle. Hundreds of followers are growing anxious about them, literally pining in the open over someone so gruesome._

_"He's beautiful! I love him!" cries a woman who asked to be called Voldie's lady; but looks strangely similar to escaped convict, Bellatrix Lestrange. She, too, has come forward in hopes of her master's safe return. She frets, wringing her bony hands together as she reflects on his whereabouts. Her voice pierces the room and we suspect she may possibly be part banshee. "Lucius is to blame! He's always getting the best of everything. Why wouldn't he want the Master, too?”_

_Tormwail sniffles as she leaves the room, watching her despair as a likeness of his own utter anguish. Once more it seeps out through tears and guttural moans. "And now Harry Potter has gone missing. He was our only hope of keeping our master grounded. Maybe Lucius stole them both away. I wouldn't put it past him! Lucius Malfoy is pure evil! He is a dead man and we'll kill him if he returns to our circle!"_

_It is true; for some time now our hero has been missing but authorities believe there is a connection between the Golden Boy and his blood relatives. Cousin, Dudley Dursley, claimed he saw him last alive and well nearly a week before, but having left him unprotected with two of his gang members. "They hated him! I would have helped the poor sod but I’d been drinking and was either passed out or retching all weekend," he was quoted as saying. Gang members at the scene were unavailable for comment. Two are currently at St. Mungo's hospital under care for Unforgivable curses performed on them, presumably delivered by Mr. Potter, himself._

_Albus Dumbledore denies these charges, adamantly putting his foot down on the matter. "Harry would never use magic, especially wandless magic on unarmed Muggles unless his life was in danger. Harry, if you see this, please come back. We're all very worried about you, my boy!"_

_In the end I pass several tissues to the supposed "Death Eater" in hopes to control his woe. He swears to me that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a changed man, at least physically. "He's not the pale, creepy snake-faced man you remember. He's gorgeous!" I, myself, would love to believe this but as you know Death Eater's can be very manipulating._

Voldemort swallowed hard. Everything was getting more complicated. Draco and his friends refused to leave, informing him that the floo network had been disabled in the cottage for their own protection. Lucius's only way of communication was now by owl and there was absolutely no way to get a birthday present for Harry without disapparating away; leaving the poor boy alone with the younger Malfoy while he was gone.

Draco shifted in his chair, having read the article himself. "So, is it true?" he said, looking curious.

"Huh?" Voldemort dropped the paper in his lap and stared up at the boy.

"About You-Know-Who," murmured Draco, allowing a tiny smile to curl. "He's handsome now. My father says I'd be very surprised by him if I were to see him."

Voldemort sighed heavily, letting himself fall deeper into his chair. "He's a cursed man, Draco...a cursed man."

"Yeah, but is he hot?"

With a growl, Voldemort stood up and walked away leaving the young blond alone in the kitchen.

* * *

Lucius sat back in an overstuffed chair, mulling over the dread he was faced with. He had barely been able to retain his status as acting Dark Lord while Voldemort was away on holiday. He was angrier than anything else; those simpletons had thoroughly tarnished his reputation.

Wormtail knocked at the door outside of the library in hopes his fellow Death Eater might listen to him. Bellatrix pouted next to him with her back against it. She chewed on her overgrown nails, listening to both men bicker between rooms. "I don't know what came over me, Lucy! I didn't mean to say those awful things about you! Can't we just make up and forget about the newspaper article?"

"It's a bit late for that! My mother reads that paper, you rat! I didn't want her to know I was a Death Eater, she'll be so disappointed!" he cried back at the door.

Bellatrix whirled around and rammed her nails into the wood. "Lucius, please forgive me!"

Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. He didn't like the company he was being forced to watch over. He wallowed in self-pity, wishing he could think of something, do anything to be able to return to his château.

"Did you hear me, Lucius!" screamed Bellatrix. He said nothing back; there was just no talking to that woman. He waited for her to continue her torment but the room grew silent. Curious, he stood up and tiptoed over to the door, placing his ear against the wood in hopes they'd finally given up and left him alone. What he heard gave him a jolt. Soft whimpers penetrated the cherry barrier, sounding very suspicious. Wormtail was mumbling something under his breath. There was shuffling on the floor, tapping and light bumping against the door. Lucius cringed as Bellatrix began grunting louder, listening as it mingled with Wormtail's heavy breathing. Within a minute they both groaned out in unison, pounding their bodies together in a rocking motion that threatened to burst through the door.

"You two can not honestly be having se—" he cried as flung the door open. Instantly, Bellatrix and Wormtail fell inside, knocking Lucius flat on his back. Bella was hanging against the door attempting to wrench her fingernails out. "Help me out, will you?" said Wormtail, shrugging. “She’s stuck again.”

* * *

Harry looked around the darkened bedroom with grim frustration. Sure, Tom was nice but that worried him all the more. Death Eaters weren't supposed to be nice. Tom was handsome and sweet and kind. No matter how angry he got, no matter how many times Harry had tried to escape or said things to upset him he had managed to keep his temper in check. That was not the type of thing one would do to further their own ambitions with the Dark side.

Harry sighed. Tom was probably just a babysitter. A Death Eater wannabe who most likely couldn't perform a single Unforgivable if his pathetic life demanded it. He wouldn’t be able to keep him safe from the Malfoys for long.

And then there was Voldemort.

Tom told him Voldemort had brought him there himself. He had delivered him straight to the chateau with his own hands. How many times had he felt him since his awakening in the home? Several, it seemed. He must be popping in from time to time checking in on his stay. But why hadn't he just killed him? Why hadn't he come to taunt him? It seemed very much out of sorts. Their last encounter was a mere season back, and Voldemort had clearly stated that he was a pain in the arse that needed removing.

Maybe this was all a huge lie? No. He had seen Lucius Malfoy only a few days back with his own blurry eyes. And worse, Lucius had seen him. He wouldn't keep this sort of thing from his master; this would be exactly what he would use to profit with. Harry cringed. It was true; Voldemort knew he was here. He was allowing Tom to keep him hidden here for some bizarre reason, keeping him out of the way from the rest of the world.

The door opened and Tom dragged himself back into the room.

Harry squinted to see the look on the other boy's face but it was hard to distinguish sadness from anger. He hoped it was sadness though, which was a lot less painful to handle when it came to Death Eaters.

"How important is Draco Malfoy at your school- Would he really be missed?" mused Voldemort to the boy but held up a hand to keep him silent. "No, don't answer that. I really need Lucius on my side right now even if he is acting very strangely."

Harry scowled. "He's a prat. I hate him nearly as much as I hate Voldemort."

Tom nodded in understanding but Harry wasn't finished.

"But at least he's not ugly like that old pervert."

Tom bit his lip.

Harry tapped his chin, deep in thought. "Or uses these silly, over-dramatic speeches no one cares about whenever he makes his presence known."

"Okay, I think I unders-"

"He just drones on and on. He really thinks he’s something special, it’s embarrassing. Gods, he’s so incompetent, too!" he cried. He was on a roll now. "I swear Voldemort is about as thick as my Uncle Vernon sometimes. I mean honestly, he can't even kill a baby—"

"I get it!" cried Tom, shaking with anger.

Harry looked up at him with a smirk. "Oh, did I hit a nerve? You know, being Malfoy's tart got you this gig but do you really think he or Voldemort respects you? I've heard all about them and their 'ranks', Tom. Getting to the top involves a lot more than sleeping your way there."

"Sleeping my- I did not sleep my way anywhere. I earned my respect a long time ago." He walked over to where Harry was sitting and loomed over the young boy, fists clenched. The lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead began to sizzle with an intense throbbing pain built up behind his eyes. Harry gripped the sheets under his hands to keep him sitting upright.

Voldemort shoved him back and climbed on top on him before he could recover. Deep instinct overcame him. He found himself snarling, inhaling the scent of fear, ignoring the headache Harry was giving him back. No longer would he tolerate this childish behaviour directed at him by this brat or anyone; he was in charge now. He dragged Harry to the head of the bed, twisting his arms up from his sides to shackle them in place with his handcuffs.

"Ow, wait," cried Harry. He regretted his words, knowing he had gone as far as he could take it. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."

"Is this how a Death Eater is supposed to act? Is this what you've been waiting for?" Tom asked, grabbing his face and squishing their lips together.

"No," whispered Harry as the boy on top of him sat back. "I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to upset you, I got carried away."

Tom lingered, screwing his eyes shut. Harry's face was still in his hands, looking so innocent and frightened and so very pretty. He sat in confusion over the guilt plucking at his conscience. His heart swelled with sadness over the bruising kiss and softened with amour. He brushed the pads of his thumbs along the boy’s blushing cheeks in a loving manner, wanting to make it up to his captive. He leaned back down to hover above him, their lips so close, almost touching. "Or is this what you want?" he whispered.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. He gripped the bedstead as alarm and excitement soared through his veins. Tom grazed his lips softly against his prisoner’s. A kiss, so innocent and budding with wonder, took form between them; something neither of them had expected. Tom couldn’t help himself, he sipped at him many times, overcome in the blissful tingle steadily growing inside of him. He tilted his head and parted his lips, daring to taste The-Boy-Who-Lived for himself. He felt Harry gasp a wispy breath at the feeling of his tongue coaxing his mouth to open.

Harry had only been kissed once, but it had nothing on this. He parted his lips allowing Tom's tongue access to his. He leaned forward kissing him back.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Tom whispered, still so close to him.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back, his cheeks burning, “me neither. Do it again.”

“Do what?” Tom asked through a sweet smile.

“Kiss me,” he said. “Don’t stop. Kiss me a million times.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. The handcuffs turned back into a book, as if on its own, and fell to the floor in order to take him into his arms. “Oh yes, your wish is my command.”

He kissed him again, so soft and heartfelt, taking his time to feel the swell of his lips against his and linger in its power to make things seem more human to him. He pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together as one, taking in the whole of it, relishing in its warmth while Harry shifted beneath him, rustling the bedclothes in light swishes. He could have stayed that way forever but a guilty pang flicked his heart and told him to take his hands away and stop kissing the boy before things went too far.

Lord Voldemort smiled at him, loving the look plastered on his sweet face. “Hey,” he whispered, giving the boy a little shake. “Need to put the brakes on. I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re not yet sixteen.”

Harry blushed. “You’re nothing like any of the Death Eaters I’ve come across before.” He tipped his head, so heavy and dizzy with puppy-love. “Do you have a final exam or something you need to take to prove how evil you are to your master, because umm…you’re not going to pass,” he said, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“I’m not going to pass? Absurd,” Voldemort said, backing off him, feeling quite tetchy all of a sudden.

“I meant that in a good way,” Harry said, touching his face, pulling him back.

“Oh, right,” he said, relieved.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Tom,” Harry whispered, watching his expression change to a dreamy state of being. “What am I to you?”

“Everything,” he gushed back, breathless and flush. His face was so close to Harry’s again, dying to kiss him until the roosters crowed. “From the moment I first heard your name you’ve been the object of my desire, but I had no idea what you truly were until this very moment. I would kill, would die for you now. Hell, I probably will…but let’s not think of such things now. What am I to you?”

“I’m smitten, thoroughly bewitched,” he said through a silly smile. “And even though I’m about to be murdered shortly, at least I got to experience this before I die.”

He wanted to tell him, confess to him who he was. His lips parted to speak but the words were jumbled, refusing to budge. Instead, he leaned in, planting them on Harry’s one more time.


	4. The Dark Lord's True Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione make their grand entrance in order to get to the bottom of their friend's disappearance while Lord Voldemort thinks of a way to sneak out and get the impending birthday boy a present.

　

"Ow!"

"Be quiet, Hermione, do you want us to get caught?" hissed Ronald Weasley. He shuffled them both through the thick of the night towards the back door of Riddle House as stealthily as he could under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, despite his slight lack of coordination problem. Both he and Hermione Granger had taken it upon themselves to discover the location of their best friend and possibly rescue him in the process.

"Then stop stepping on my foot!" she whispered back and shoved him on. Quietly, they reached the back entrance and Hermione pulled her wand free from her jeans, pointing it at the door. " _Alohomora_!" Instantly, the locks clicked open, leaving the door vulnerable to their wishes.

"You've got to be kidding me, could it be that easy? I bet there's a bunch of wards guarding the place ready to fry us into floo powder," Ron said, sounding dramatic.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, your mum said that Dumbledore already swept this area for wards. There's been no indication of any extra magic protecting this place since the day Voldemort and Harry went missing."

"Then why are we here?" Surely they wouldn't be keeping Harry here if there wasn't any protection over the house. "Didn't Dumbledore say we shouldn't be snooping about?"

Hermione fought the urge to point her wand at Ron, counting to ten before replying. "To. Find. Out. What. Happened. To. Harry. Besides, he's not going to send any of The Order here to look things over and I'm not about to sit in The Burrow for the remainder of the summer speculating on their meetings over this. If they won't let us in on it, we're going to investigate this for ourselves. That's what we do, Ron, that's what we've always done!"

"Oh."

Hermione turned the knob and cracked open the door to peek inside. "I don't see anything moving about, let's go."

Carefully, both Gryffindors stepped into the decrepit old house, cringing as each step they took on the wooden floorboards creaked under their feet. Hermione gasped, seeing a shadowed figure approaching from the end of the hall. Ron clamped his hand over her mouth and flung them both back towards the wall behind them as the short pudgy shadow grew larger.

"It's Wormtail!" he whispered excitedly, seeing the rat-faced little man drag himself through the corridor, sniffing the air like a dog. His eyes narrowed in anger as Wormtail approached, scanning the halls for the source of the noises he'd heard.

Hermione lifted her wand towards him as he closed their distance, ready to curse the living hell out of him if he somehow discovered them.

"Macnair? I know you're there, I can smell you."

Hermione lowered her wand. Wormtail stood frozen in place while his over-sized teeth chattered up and down. "You win, okay? I don't like this game anymore!"

"You're not trying hard enough!" The door Ron and Hermione had just entered flew open with a bang. A large hooded man drudged inside carrying a gigantic executioner's axe. He lifted it over his head, holding the shaft with both hands. His black eyes gleamed with electricity through the eye-holes of the mask; he had found his prey and he was ready to strike. Wormtail cowered, backing away from him, towards the two hidden underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

Instinctively, Ron reached behind him and found and grasped hold of a doorknob his lower back had connected with. He turned it as he prayed for it to be unlocked; cringing in horror watching Wormtail duck aside to avoid the axe blade as it came crashing down towards them. He wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist, intending to dive away, but the axe narrowly missed their heads and hit the door behind them. It burst open, cracking in two, sending both sprawling back and falling hard down a flight of stairs.

Macnair pulled his hood off and gaped at the door, scratching his head. "Lovely. Look what you made me do, Pettigrew."

Wormtail scoffed back. "You are in so much trouble…I'm telling Lucius on you."

Landing at the bottom of the steps, Hermione groaned, rubbing her bruised hip. Ron was splayed out flat on his back in an attempt to catch his breath. Luckily, neither Death Eater noticed the pair tumbling down, bouncing off each step. They watched the top of the steps as the shadows of both men disappeared.

"What the-!" exclaimed the bushy-haired girl, yanking the cloak away from her face. She stared off to the side, head tipped in confusion.

Ron sat up and squinted in the darkness of the old cellar, zeroing in on a block of candles burning deep in the back of the room. "What is that?" he whispered, balling up the invisibility cloak around his wrist. They both stood up and tiptoed over to the other side of the large room, growing more and more confused with each step.

Photos lined the back wall, illuminated by flame and magic, glowing brighter as they approached. At first, the person in the pictures appeared to be Harry, but as they closed in that was not the case. "It's some sort of shrine to this bloke, whoever he is," murmured Hermione, finding herself fascinated with the handsome teenager. None of them were head-shots as it looked like the pictures were taken from various hiding places and the boy had no idea he was being photographed, but it was very obvious this person was utterly dreamy in every way.

"What are you looking at?" said Ron, sneering, watching Hermione's expression as she studied the wall.

"Hmm? Oh!" She broke from her reverie and shook her head clear. Looking down, she found more moving pictures, sketches, articles of undergarments and poetry books were scattered out across the floor. "This is really weird."

Angrily, Ron shrugged and walked over to the other side of the cellar, lighting the tip of his wand to see. Stacks of boxes littered with water-soaked papers filled the corner, spilling out in a mulch-like waterfall. "Maybe there's something here that'll tell us where Harry is," he said, biting his lip at the sight of the wall behind it. It was bowing in; decay set deep throughout the foundation, showing serious signs of stress. "This wall doesn't look so good. I'll bet this house is going to fall in soon."

Hermione didn't look back. She knelt down in front of the shrine to examine the sketches and other things in the pile, hoping for a clue. "Just stay away from it, you know how clumsy you—" A loud smash filled her ears before she could finish. She whipped around in a panic, only to find Ron lying beneath a pile of rubble and an old lock-box. She rushed to his side, tossing chunks of wall that broke apart in her fingers like wet chalk.

"Macnair, you've made the cellar collapse! Yes, you! I heard it fall in just now. If my private work has been damaged, I'll kill you! Oh, yeah, you'd better run!" Shouts and heavy footfalls pounded overhead. Hermione grew nervous and quickened her pace. Within a few seconds, Ron was free and both stood up, pointing their wands out in front of them towards the cellar steps. Hermione cradled the ancient lock-box against her chest, knowing that if it had been hidden in the foundation of the house that it was probably important.

Lucius trudged down the stairs, oblivious to the intruders. He ran over to his shrine and sighed in relief seeing none of his things destroyed.

Hermione growled and stepped forward into the light. "You!" she cried, unable to contain her emotion. "- _Stupefy_ -!"

Before he'd even had a chance to turn around, Lucius fell to the floor unconscious. Ron whimpered, screwing his face up. "Hermione?" he squeaked, "What did you do?"

"Open that box up while I levitate Mr. Malfoy. I want to know what's inside."

Surprisingly, the lock holding it closed had rusted away years before. Ron opened the box and dipped his hands inside. "It's some birth records and family tree stuff on the Riddle fa…m..— oh my god!" he shouted, shocked at what he was reading.

Hermione whirled around, breaking her spell contact. Lucius plummeted to the floor with a thud. She cringed. "Oops."

"You're not going to believe this!" he cried, shoving some papers against Hermione's chest. She turned back and held them up to Ron's wand-light to scan them over.

“Well, well, well," she said, grinning from ear to ear. She shoved the papers into her jeans and re-levitated Lucius up into the air. "So, you're all powerful master, who we thought was a half-blood is even more than that, Mr. Malfoy! No wonder you've all followed him around for over a half a century caring less what his true origins were, you filthy perverts! Ha! You've all been worshipping a wizard-Muggle-Veela!"

* * *

Lying in bed with a lazy smile curled at each corner of his lips, Tom allowed himself to rest for the first time in years. Worry, anger, dread and hate drifted away into the depths of his mind, shoved aside by the unmistakable emotion of silly happiness. He propped himself up, resting his chin in his hand as he lay next to Harry to watch him sleep. Never in his entire life had killing Muggles or world domination been the least important agenda for the day; that would have to be dealt with later once he could get his new-found beloved to understand him and his cause. He went over it in his head; a gut wrenching speech confessing his true identity and his devotion to the boy who had showed him more about life in one night than he had ever experienced before during his entire existence.

Harry groaned and rolled onto his side. Tom wasn't sure, but he'd imagined a slight grimace cross over the sleeping boy's features before he buried his head under his pillow. He slapped his hand against his forehead, feeling the 'not-as-frequent-but-still-extremely-annoying' headache returning. With a frown, he crawled off the bed and strolled to the toilet to freshen up. He looked back at Harry but his face was hidden. Surely he wasn't having a bad dream; not after the amazing breakthrough they'd made the night before.

He stood there, frozen in place, his mouth half opened. "Harry, I'm—I'm…" he said, stumbling over his words. "I'm not who you think I am, I don't know how to say this."

"Then stop trying and go back to bed," mumbled Harry. He wrapped his arm around the pillow covering his head and rolled onto his other side, away from Tom.

Taking in a deep breath, Tom opened his mouth again, intent on finishing the sentence. "Harry, my name isn't Tom. Well, not anymore. My name is—" A loud knock sent him juddering in place. He gawked at the door, knowing it could only be one other person in the home stupid enough to interrupt him during his single moment of purity. "Go. Away!" he shouted angrily.

"I don't think my father pays for you to treat me like this," teased Draco from the other side of the door.

Harry sat straight up, pillows flying off the bed. "Err, Malfoy pays you?" he cried, looking aghast. "Pays you for　 _what_?"

Voldemort blushed scarlet. "Nothing, he lies." Suddenly, the thought of telling Harry the truth meant a lot more than it had a moment ago. "Listen to me very carefully. I am not being paid by anyone to be here, I am—"

"There's an owl out here with a message for you. I just thought you'd like to know," injected Draco. His ear was pressed against the door. "And, um, please hurry. She's a very angry owl. She's attacking Crabbe."

Shouts and breaking glass echoed into the room. Harry ignored it, keeping his eyes on Tom. "Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"My eye!" Crabbe screamed, running around the house with a large, snowy owl attached to his neck. Goyle chased behind with his wand, firing off a volley of counter spells that bounced around the chateau, littering the walls with crispy holes.

"I, uh, yeah. Maybe I should get that first though," he replied, pointing at the door.

Harry crossed his arms and sighed heavily. "Sure, fine."

Tom gaped back. "What? Two minutes ago you had no interest in hearing what I had to say and now that I need to pry an owl off of a dying boy's throat you're upset?'

"Just hurry," Harry rubbed his scar as it flared up in pain. "I think Voldemort is close. I don't want to be alone here."

With a nod, Tom left the room. He ran down the hall with Draco in tow, tackling Crabbe as he passed by. The owl detached herself and flew off, resting down on a small table. Tom got up and walked towards her, leaving Draco and Gregory to tend to their friend.

"C'mere, girl, I won't hurt you," he cooed. The owl stood its ground; beak open, eyes squinted, appearing very not trusting of the tall boy. With nimble fingers, he untied the cord wrapped around her leg and removed several letters addressed to Harry; birthday cards, to be precise. Tom groaned; it was Harry's birthday and he'd forgotten.

He'd have to do something about that.

* * *

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, letting his feet dangle off the side like a child. His scar throbbed in a dull ache as it had over the last hour. Lord Voldemort was worried. Something had him spooked; there was someone close to him that he didn't trust. That disturbed Harry. He worried it could be Tom, and that would be bad. In the short time he'd been held captive in Lucius Malfoy's summer home, he'd grown very fond of the young Death Eater-in-training. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could see him clearer.

The bedroom door creaked open and Tom slid inside, shutting and locking it behind him. He was showered and dressed, looking at Harry anxiously. "I have to go out for a while. Can I trust you not to try and escape, or do I have to handcuff you to the bed again?"

Harry rolled his eyes, pretending he was insulted by the remark. Of course he was going to try and escape. Tom was great and all that, but he was still serving under the leadership of the one man who really, really hated him and wanted him super dead. "How long will you be gone?" he said, shrugging indifference.

Tom glanced back at the door. It was solid, but it was only wood. If Draco and his pals tried hard enough, they could pry it open well before he'd be returning. "A few hours, I suppose…I have to find something," he said, pondering over several locking spells in his head. He pulled his wand out and cast a few on the door, testing each one with several counter spells. Satisfied with the security, he turned to the bathroom door, repeating the locking spell.

Harry sighed softly, dejected. Without a wand, getting through either door would be very difficult.

Tom crossed the room and stood in front of him, smiling with assurance. Looking into Harry's eyes he cupped each side of his face and leaned forward to claim his mouth with a supple kiss. His fingers slid down the length of his neck, across his collarbone and entwined behind Harry's back. Lifting him away from the bed, they embraced as Harry slipped his arms around Tom's neck. He bent forward while Harry stood on his toes, breathing in his breath and pressing their lips together in a good-bye kiss.

The brilliance of a silly crush wound its way throughout his body as they parted, sending shivers over his flesh. He stood back, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers, watching Harry blush scarlet with the mutual feeling. He opened his mouth to say that maybe, just maybe he might be falling in love-but he stopped. Never in his life had he said those words to anyone.

Things were moving too fast, much to fast for him to handle. Dark Lords don’t tell anyone they’ve fallen in love with them. "I...umm, err...I have to go now."

Harry blinked. "What? That's it?"

"Jolly good. I'll be back soon." Needing to leave, Tom held his wand up in the air and apparated away without another word.

"Nice." Shrugging, Harry nibbled on his bottom lip and made his way to the bedroom door to try and open it.

As he approached, an electric static filled the air, stifling his movements. He inched closer with great effort, cringing and twitching from muscle spasms until the pain became unbearable. Panic rose up into his heart, finding himself crippled from a very dark magic spell that had been placed on it. Tom was a lot more powerful than he’d guessed. He fell to the floor, digging his fingernails into the plush carpet in order to drag himself away. Breaths were short, his lungs constricted against the magical barrier. His hands went limp on the floor. Struggling to take a breath, Harry whimpered into the carpet.

It was over. He was such a fool to have thought he could escape again. A minute before he was in the arms of the man of his dreams, now he was going to die like a chump at the foot of the door.

But then it stopped.

The wards dissipated into nothing. Harry looked around through blurry eyes, but Tom hadn't returned.

* * *

Draco winked at Gregory as he shoved his wand back into his jeans pocket. "Who does he think he is, trying to place protective wards on _my_ doors? This place is a Malfoy home. You can't simply close something off without a Malfoy being able to open it here."

"Well, c'mon, I'm really horny," said Gregory, jerking his head toward their prize. Together, they walked down the hallway to the master bedroom.

* * *

"Look at it, Mr. Malfoy!" shouted Hermione. She thrust the birth certificate in his face. "It says right here that Tom Riddle Sr. was half Veela. You can't deny this evidence."

"Tim Whowhatshisname? I don't know who you're talking about." Lucius turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, snubbing the girl's attempts to sway him. He rattled the chains shackling his hands above his head, hoping she'd back away. She didn't.

"We know very well and good that you know who we're talking about. You were the one who slipped Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny's cauldron. Now open your eyes and look at this before I open them for you!" she shouted, shaking the paper in her fist.

Lucius stood tall against the grungy wall of the Shrieking Shack. He was chained up like a slave, being treated like a common prisoner by two obnoxious fools. It would only be a matter of time before his beautiful master came to rescue him. He would tolerate the brutality of standing in the same room with a Muggle born breathing down his neck until such time, laying in wait like a damsel in distress until his prince rode up to save the day.

Ron felt a chill of excitement run through him. He loved it when Hermione was really bossy. "Hey, keep it down. Someone might hear you," he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

"Hush-" She turned towards Ron intending on scolding him, but stopped, seeing the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes. She blushed in understanding. Crinkling her nose, she turned back towards her prisoner. "Open your eyes, Malfoy." Lucius gasped, hearing her tone thicken against him. She grabbed the lapels of his dinner jacket and yanked him toward her to get his undivided attention. "I said open them…NOW!"

Ron panted like a dog while watching her work her magic.

"When Mr. Riddle found out his wife was a witch he panicked and left because he knew he'd be cut off from his inheritance if he mixed his blood with _their_ kind. His family didn't like wizards, you see."

"No, you're not going to trick me. You can't make me believe your filthy lies, girl," he replied, feeling every bit as proud of his own self as he was for his master.

Hermione glanced back at Ron for a brief moment, fanning her eyelashes at him. Ron sighed, crossing his legs to hide his happiness. "Make him believe, ‘mione-baby, make him believe."

"Huh?" Lucius looked over at Ron strangely.

"Ooh yeah, I will," she said, purring. She was swaying her hips, breathing heavy through her nose while glaring up at him with pure hatred. Lucius gaped between them as the realisation slowly set in that these two hooligans were actually getting off on torturing him.

"Well, I never!" he shouted in disgust. "Stop humping me this instant, little Mudblood girl!" He jumped up and down, tugging against his shackles but Hermione held on tighter.

Ron gnashed his teeth, curling up behind his girlfriend to meet her rhythm. "That's right, fight it. Fight her bossiness, Malfoy!" He wrapped his arms around her waist, snickering at Lucius's horrified expression.

"Oh, Ron, he's so disturbed!" Hermione cried. She threw her head back in ecstasy, pressing into Ron's embrace. She whirled around to take him in her arms. "Oh gods, I can't wait any longer. Let's go write that ransom note!"

* * *

Harry scrambled away from the door until he reached the side of the bed. He was weak, his head pounded in pain and muscles trembled in recovery but he was alive. Pulling himself up, he managed to climb back into bed for some much needed rest. Unfortunately…

"Knock, knock!" Harry winced and looked back at the door in shock. Draco chuckled, pointing his wand at the doorknob. "- _Alohomora_ -!"

Gregory jiggled the knob but it was still locked. "It's still locked," he said, shrugging.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you think?" He thrust Goyle aside and braced himself against the door. "Whoever you are in there, come unlock the inside. It's very simple, I'm sure even you can manage that."

"Go away!" Harry shouted. He didn't have the strength to deal with this at the moment. He was very thankful that one of those lock spells Tom had cast had stayed in place.

"Break it down!" ordered Draco, shoving Gregory up against the wooden barrier. "We’re going to get you when we get inside, little prostitute boy! You'll be sorry you defied me!"

Harry pulled his duvet up to his neck, knotting it in his hands as Goyle pounded against the door with all his girth. It would only be a matter of minutes before the frame relented to his force. "Stop or I'll tell Tom, I swear it!" he cried, rubbing his scar with a shaky hand, feeling his stinging headache grow stronger.

The door flew off its hinges and hit the floor. Gregory and Draco jumped inside, both looking very fiery. Harry pulled the duvet over his head, hoping beyond all hope they would not notice him. Within seconds, Draco pounced on top of him and grabbed hold of the duvet. "There you are," he said, his voice dripping with a bittersweet acid. He tugged on it, fighting Harry's grip, baring his teeth at the shock of black hair poking out over the top of the duvet.

"Get off me!"

Harry flailed under the covers, twisting himself up in the thick cloth. After giving it his all, he groaned and went slack with defeat, finding himself trapped under the weight of his nemesis and mummified. "Finally!" huffed Draco. Slowly, he peeled the covers down in anticipation of seeing this new Death Eater vamp, but then he saw it. Shocked, he sat back, blinking, staring down at the vivid impression of a lightning-bolt shaped scar. "No, it can't be…"

Gregory lit up, pointing to the boy. "Hey! He's got a scar just like Harry Potter!"

Draco wrenched the covers down over Harry's face. "This　 _is_ 　Harry Potter, you git!" He grasped Harry's chin with rough fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Harry growled under his breath. "Lord Voldemort brought me here."

"Don't say his name!" shrieked Goyle.

"Oh, sure, Lord You-Know-Who brought you here to spend the holiday sleeping with Tom." Draco squeezed Harry's chin, forcing his mouth to make fishy-lips. "I think I…I…" Draco felt a sudden wave of desire hit him like a brick. Finding himself floating in a drugged-like state, he relaxed, seeing his greatest rival with new eyes for the first time since they'd met at eleven years old. He stared down at the charming face, entranced with a powerful grip of desire. His lips parted, wet with the wanton need to press his mouth over Harry's.

"When did you get so pretty, Potter?" he cooed, startling Goyle into a double-take.

"Draco, you alright, mate?" said Gregory, prodding his finger on his best friend's shoulder.

Harry had seen that look before; that wicked smirk of a hunter perched over his prey. "Uh, Malfoy, whatever you’re thinking about doing right now…don’t," he begged, frozen in place.

"Shh, don't speak," Draco whispered, "don't ruin this moment." He leaned in to him, noses touching, brushing his pouting lips against Harry's.

Goyle recoiled, watching Draco loose all control of his self in the presence of The-Boy-Who-Lived. "Mate, stop," he half-whispered, his hand hovering over Draco's back. Harry's eyes were as large as saucers the moment their lips squished tight together.

* * *

Standing in a dusty bookstore centred on Knockturn Alley, Tom planted the palm of his hand against his forehead. Something was wrong. Dropping the books he had chosen to purchase as Harry's birthday presents; ' _Turning to the Dark Side and Not Feeling Guilty About It_ ', ‘ _Death Eaters and the Rebels who Love Them_ ’ and ' _Villains and Heroes in History who Made it Work_ ’; he pulled his wand from his cloak and apparated away with a * _bang_ * back to the chateau.


	5. Heroes and Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magic moment is here: Lord Voldemort finally finds the right place and time to reveal his big secret to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter, I should have it out tomorrow or Friday.

The moment he popped back into the bedroom of the chateau, Tom drew his wand up and scanned the area with owl eyes - the room was empty.

The door lay broken and crushed on the floor. The walls in the hallway were littered with blackened burn marks. It was obvious to Tom that someone had cast a fury of ill-directed spells in a struggle. His heart thumped against his ribcage and he gritted his teeth, stepping over the pile of rubbish in order to find Harry. A loud bang rang throughout the home, jarring him with another jolt of shock. Shouts and lights bounced from wall to wall, leading into the lounge. Tom gripped his wand tighter and stepped inside.

Harry was against the wall in the back of the room, crouched low and holding out a wand. His eyes darted from Draco and Gregory over to Tom. He appeared to be nervous; his bared knobby-knees knocked together and his wand hand trembled to stay pointed. He looked like a trapped animal in an over-sized silk pyjama top. To his side, Vincent Crabbe sat in a kneeling position with Harry's other hand twisted into his pudding-bowl hair; his eyes screwed shut, his mouth twisted in fear and his pants wet on the crotch. Tom grimaced at the sight.

"What's going on here? How did Harry get out of the room?" Tom shouted at the two Slytherins, yet he kept his eyes and wand fixed on his prisoner.

Draco wiped away a line of drool from his chin and turned to face the uptight Death Eater-in-training with an air of disgust. "You've been hiding Harry Potter here all this time and thought you could keep it a secret from me in my own home? I want credit, too! I want the Dark Lord to know that I've helped out in…in this…in whatever it is you're doing here, so he'll respect me!"

Tom's head lolled from the irony. "Yeah, you've done a real bang-up job here so far." He jerked his wand towards Harry. "Is that your wand he's got?"

"Back away, Tom. I don't want to hurt Crabbe; I just want to go home," Harry said, looking dreary. He swallowed hard in his throat at his predicament, faced with holding his own captive after being nearly molested and now half naked in front of three very dangerous followers of Voldemort. His scar burned white hot under his sweaty sweeps of black fringe but he wouldn't back down, not when he'd gotten this far.

Tom shook his head. "I can't allow that, not after all we’ve been through. I know you feel it too, this bond we share deep in our hearts. We have something special, something real. I’m never letting you out of my sight again." The words slipped past his lips before he'd had time to think.

Stunned, everyone turned to look at Tom. Even Crabbe opened his eyes at the sound of pure and utter passion entrancing them all.

"That was beautiful," murmured Goyle.

"Shut up," Tom said. He moved the tip of his wand over to Draco then, leaving Harry reeling in a haze of confusion. "Tell me why you broke the door down?"

"They just broke in and attacked me," Harry said.

Goyle gasped. "I pulled him off of you, you great tosser!"

"That's how he got my wand! He's a siren, I tell you! He tried to seduce me!" shouted Draco. "Please don't tell my father I lost my wand, Tom."

"I did not! You broke in and attacked me! How can I possibly seduce you if I'm hiding while you and these gorillas are beating the door down?"

Crabbe gasped. "I wasn't even there! I was in the kitchens getting a snack!"

Draco kept his frenetic pointing at Harry. "He put something in my drink to make me fall in love with him!"

"Draco went mad—"

"Stop it!" Tom screamed, clapping his hands over his ears. He pointed his wand at Harry, crying out "- _Expelliarmus_ -!" before he could react. Draco's wand flew out of his hand,  across the room and landed in Tom's.

Crabbe stood up, wrenching Harry’s arm behind his back. "I have him!" he cried.

"Very good," Tom walked over to them, feeling the sudden urge to hex Vincent into the wall for touching him. "Let him go, he's harmless now."

Harry groaned out in pain. The agony from his scar intensified and blood began dribbling down into the corner of his eye. He fell to his knees as Tom approached him, unable to hold up his own weight any longer. Crabbe released his arm and backed away, fearing he had done more damage than good.

"I—I didn't-" He held his hands up in defence. Tom scooped the boy into his arms and stood up. Without a word, he walked out of the room and down the hallway, back to their private quarters.

* * *

"Maybe we should rewrite it so it sounds more threatening." Hermione twirled a quill in her fingers and bit at her bottom lip. "I don't think this will be taken very seriously."

Ron sighed as he glanced over at the rubbish bin overflowing with balled-up pieces of parchment. "Its fine, Hermione, he'll get the point. How many different ways are there to ask for a swap for Malfoy?"

Hermione huffed. "Maybe we should cut off his ear or something and send it along with the note. Then Voldemort will take it seriously."

Lucius choked on his saliva. "What? You can't honestly be serious, can you? You're the good guys. Your kind don't send body parts in notes!"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she replied, dropping her head on her hand.

Standing from the small and rickety table in the heart of the Shrieking Shack, Ron rolled up the final parchment and tied it off with a ribbon. “I'm going to send this off. Hopefully it'll reach them soon. I really miss Harry."

Lucius shook his head. "No, Ronald, please do not leave me alone with this girl again. You promised."

"I did, didn't I?" Ron handed the note to Hermione.

"Fine, I'll do it," she said, taking the note. She walked up to Lucius and stroked his chin. "At least you've learnt to not address me as 'Mudblood' anymore; you've got promise, Malfoy."

Lucius opened his mouth but closed it, seeing Ron out of the corner of his eye gesturing for him not to egg her on. Instead, he smirked.

Ron let out a great sigh the moment Hermione left the room. "You've really got to watch yourself, Malfoy. She's dying to hex you again."

"Then take her wand away! What good am I to you if I'm dead?" demanded Lucius. "I'm defenceless!" He rattled his chains, something he'd found himself doing a lot of over the last few days. Ron had promise. He was a Pure-Blood who didn't seem overly concerned with forcing lies and scandal down his throat. He seemed the more level headed of the two and genuinely missed his friend. Lucius wanted nothing more than to get that Potter brat away from his master and get himself away from the Mudblood so he remained calm, listening to and guiding the young Gryffindor into doing what was necessary to quicken the arrangement.

Surely Lord Voldemort would not hesitate to make an exchange for him. Harry had proved himself an idiot who was unable to realise he was graced with the presence of his master. How dangerous could he be?

"She reminds me of Bellatrix," he murmured, almost smiling to himself at the thought of locking those two girls up together in a room. "I think she's snapped."

"Maybe, but at least her heart's still in the right place. She just wants you to see her point about You-Know-Who. He's got you all caught up in a spell. I've seen what these Veela do to people; they make you do things you wouldn't normally dream of doing." Ron sat down in an unstable wooden chair and leaned back to put his feet up. "She thinks she can save you, that's all."

"Save me? What about you? You're a Pure-Blood, even if you are a Weasley. I've been told that Dumbledore is a Half-Blood, so that makes you a hypocrite!" Lucius snorted, then stopped, confused by what he'd just said. "It makes you…You follow a Half-Blood who…and my master is a Half…"

Ron chuckled. "She's gotten to you, hasn't she?"

"Is he really a Veela?" Lucius asked him.

Ron nodded. "I reckon he is. We found those documents in his family's house, didn't we?"

"No! I refuse to believe I've been duped!" he cried, turning his eyes away from Ron's burning stare. It couldn't be possible.

Hermione returned, entering the room as if floating on air, unnerving him more than he already was and causing him to emit a sound like a cat coughing up a fur ball. "Gah!"

She froze in mid-step and glared back at Lucius. "Was he naughty?" She pulled her wand free from his jeans, eager to teach the elder Death Eater another lesson in manners.

Lucius shrunk back against the wall, darting his eyes to Ron for help. His torture has only just begun but there was hope, slight hope in the eyes of the blood traitor standing beside him.

* * *

Woozy and listless, Harry felt his muscles melting away beneath his skin. The intoxicating aroma of strawberries and roses stirred at his senses, rendering him docile in a sea of semi consciousness. A small smile arched at the corners of his lips as he relaxed with the thought of having a wondrous dream so real and alive bubbling over his flesh, tickling his nose with vivid fragrance. No dream had ever felt as real…

Never felt…

Harry opened his eyes with a snap.

This wasn't a dream at all.

Squinting to focus, he sat up in horror upon finding himself nestled languidly in an ornate bath, not much different from the one he'd discovered in the Prefects private bathroom. Tea rose petals littered the rim of the tub and the floor surrounding it, whist hundreds of blush-stained candles flickered with brilliance against the darkened setting. Thick, strawberry-laced foam licked against his chest. Champagne chilled in an icy bucket on the other side of the bathtub and the clinking of glass pierced the silence as a tall silhouette entered the room.

He was in an absolute pink nightmare and had no idea how he'd gotten there.

Worst of all, as he suddenly realised, he was completely naked.

Tom sauntered across the room, smiling as he rested two champagne glasses on the edge of the bath. "Wonderful, you're finally awake," he said and stood back fully to gaze upon his masterful work. Harry scanned him top to bottom, noting to himself the lack of clothing his captor seemed to be adorning; a short smoking jacket and nothing more.

Harry plunged his hands down into the foamy water, covering himself up as quickly as possible. "What in the bloody hell is going on here?" he cried, once again fearing for his virginal safety.

Tom laughed as he untied the belt of his robe, feeling dizzy from the enchanted bath foam wafting into his nostrils. The robe slipped from his shoulders, landing at his feet in a puddle of satin. Harry gasped reflexively, gaping at the other boy as he stepped into the bath with him.

"I thought this would be a bit different, you and I sharing some time alone in a romantic setting on the evening of your birthday. Just the two of us; I locked Draco and his friends in his room." Tom reached out and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle. He poured them both a drink and handed Harry a glass, who reluctantly took it. "To pow- _Oops_ , I'm so used to saying that. To us," he said, holding his glass up in the air.

Harry nodded but couldn't hold back the dread forming in his stomach. "Tom, isn't this just a bit personal?" He set his glass down on the rim of the bath in order to cup his hand back over his groin.

Tom leaned into the bath and kicked his feet up, crossing his ankles over the rim. "Relax, Harry. It's all that worrying you do that keeps causing all these dilemmas. I had a hell of a time healing your forehead back up after your most recent incident. I'm not really into healing magic, you know." He watched Harry run a bubbly finger over his scar in curiosity before settling in to reach his purpose. Tonight was the night; he would finally reveal himself for who he really was. "Drink up. I need you good and pissed—I mean um…you need to loosen up a little."

Whether it was the annoying smell of strawberries fogging his mind or the ache inside of him pleading with his psyche to finally release his tension, Harry shrugged and grabbed his glass. He sipped his champagne, letting Tom fill his glass again.

Satisfied with the results of watching the young Gryffindor slip into a tipsy splendour, Tom plucked the glass away from his hand and tossed it over his shoulder. "Turn around," he cooed, swirling his finger circularly in the air, "I want to wash your back."

"Okay," murmured Harry. He twisted himself around so his back was facing Tom, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. He sat rigid for a moment; adjusting to the odd sensation of being naked on his lap. The warmth against his throat slackened him as Tom's lips began a trail of kisses on his shoulder.

"I don't care about anyone else, I never have," Tom whispered in certainty, pausing his lips over the dip of Harry's collarbone. Never in his life had he felt any sort of emotion towards another wizard or witch. "But I fancy you, Harry. I can't help myself."

"I fancy you too, Tom." Harry had to admit to himself at last that he enjoyed the company of the young Death Eater-in-training very much. The surreal barrier blocking his wanton desire began to fade from his mind. He tipped his head back, presenting his exposed throat to the boy holding him in his arms and sighed, deep and heavy.

Tom's lips moved to Harry's, his fingers lifting the smaller boy's chin up. Slowly, they kissed in adoration and Harry found himself moving around to face him, resting over Tom's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. Their passion intensified, grown to feral proportions before either understood how deeply lost they had become.

Holding each other tight with their better judgement askew, they entwined as one for the first time against the edge of the bath. They explored each other’s bodies and made love for hours, neither eager to lose this glorious feeling they shared. Charmed candlelight bathed their dampened skin with a rustic glow, dancing in rhythm to their unbridled arches. They fell from the tub to the floor in each other’s arms, landing over a thick furred rug, both mewling and panting for air and release from the torturous need that filled their hearts.

This was meant to be, Tom was convinced of that. He fell back into the plush white fur to catch his breath, holding Harry into his chest as he curled up against him. There was no guilt for what he had done. It felt so natural and perfect; everything seemed as right as rain. The time had come for him to tell him, to say the words he'd held inside for far too long.

"Harry?" Tom lifted his head to gaze upon the breathtaking beauty snuggled into his form like a cat. "I need to tell you something now, something I've wanted to tell you for a very long time."

"You killed Draco?" Harry mused aloud. He planted a tiny chaste kiss against Tom's lips before he could answer. "Sorry, go ahead, tell me."

Tom sneered, fearing he'd lost the moment. "No."

"Tell me!" Harry demanded, and climbed over Tom pinning him against the floor. "Tell me right now or I'll tickle you to death." He grappled the other boy's wrists, restraining them above his head with one hand and impishly ran the tips of his fingernails down his arm with the other.

Tom bucked beneath him, having never once in his life been tickled. "Oh gods, stop!"

Harry held fast, ignoring the cries for mercy. "Are you going to tell me?"

"-Please!"

"Tell me, damn you!" The tickling reached a pitch, driving the Dark Lord into a frenzy of spitting and uncontrolled spasms.

"Can't...breathe!"

Harry dug deep into the rug with his knees, amazed at the power he held over the boy trapped beneath him. "I won't stop until you give in."

"Fine!" shouted Tom, unable to withstand the terror being inflicted upon him any longer. "I'll say it!"

Harry laughed with mirth and sat back, releasing his victim and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

Tom shoved himself up on his elbows, giddy to be free from the tickling and eager to speak. "You know, _*puff puff*_ how you asked me about my surname a while back, and, _*puff puff*_ I wouldn't tell you?" Harry nodded, still smiling. "Well, that's because my name's Riddle."

The smile began to fade as Harry sat back on his heels. "You’re…come again?"

"Riddle, get it? Tom Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort, Harry. I’ve been here this whole time. It’s me you’ve been sensing."

Harry shook his head as the smile disappeared. "No you're not, you're…" His hands balled into fists at his sides as the name sank into his mind.

"I can't believe you hadn't figured it out by now. Merlin, I'm glad to get that off my chest, I really feel much better getting that out!" Tom said. He grinned up at Harry, hoping he'd take it a bit better than he appeared to be. "Are you alright, Harry? Look, I know we've had our differences before, but—" The words stopped short the moment Harry's fist came crashing into his face, knocking him back against the floor. He looked up; gasping in shock as the fist soared through the air yet again, connecting against his nose, sending him head-first into the blissful state of happy unconsciousness.

* * *

There was nowhere to go. Magic flickered across the fractured door frame in short bursts. Harry had learnt his lesson; he would not be trying that route again. The thought of looking back at the boy on the floor behind him made him sob. There was no way that could he be Lord Voldemort.

But if he was the Dark Lord he had an opportunity to finally do something about it. Slowly, he turned back to look upon the cherub-faced boy lying peacefully on the furry rug. Walking back to the bathroom, he grabbed up the belt of Tom's robe and knelt down next to him. He could do it; strangle the life out of him before he recovered. It would be too easy, he was out cold.

"I hate you," he whispered, letting the belt slip from his hands. He wiped a line of blood away from Tom's cheek and rubbed his fingers into the rug. "I love you." Harry stood up and took a deep breath. If he couldn't kill Tom, he'd have to escape again. For all he knew Tom's affection was a charade and at any moment his life would end in a flash of green.

"I need a wand!" he said out loud, scanning the room over. His eyes stopped dead on the once normal-ish looking bed in the room and cringed; in its place stood the largest heart-shaped monstrosity imaginable. More pink blinded him. Looking down, he realised he was still wet and naked. "…and some clothes." The pyjama top he'd been wearing was still the only item of clothing accessible. He threw it on and buttoned it up and began searching the room for anything to help him.

"Why can't anything go my way?" he screamed in the air, overturning every piece of furniture his hands could reach.

"Potter?" cried a voice. Harry looked at the wall towards the sound. Someone was tapping on the plaster and shouting.

"Malfoy?" Harry called back, dashing to the spot adjacent to a large moving portrait of some white-haired granny sneering at him. "Malfoy, is that you?"

"He's going to kill us all! He's Lord You-Know-Who!" The voice was deeper, most likely Crabbe's.

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair and pressed his ear up to the wall. "I'm trapped in here, there's nothing I can do right now except try and get out!" he said back to them.

"Are you alone in there? Where did he go? Is he coming for us?" cried Goyle, and banged on the wall precisely where Harry had placed his ear, causing the boy's ear to ring.

"Ow, watch where you tap! It's very hard to hear you from in here."

Draco shoved the boys aside to stand against the wall across from Harry. "Potter, where is he?"

"He's on the floor in the loo. I—" A large hand slapped over Harry's mouth, cutting off his words. He found himself overpowered, thrust to the floor, now looking up at the boy whose nose he'd just broken.

* * *

A snowy owl landed on the ledge of Draco's windowsill, pecking the glass with her beak. Crabbe screeched in horror and threw himself behind the bed. Goyle got up and let her in without thinking. She flew through the room, landing on the centre of the bed and held out her leg. Draco smirked as he untied the note and unrolled it.

"I wonder why Potter got so quiet?" said Goyle. He sat on the windowsill, resting his elbow on his knee and chin in his palm. "Maybe he got away and left us here."

Draco frowned as he read over the ransom note written in blood red letters. "They've got my father. That filthy Mudblood has him!"

Crabbe peeked out over the bed and eyed Hedwig. "What they got your father for?"

In a huff, Draco crumbled the note in his fist and threw it over his shoulder. "They want Potter back. They'll swap him for my father's safe return."

"Well that's easy, Draco, he's right in the next room!" injected Goyle. He slumped back into brooding a second later. "But how are we going to get to him? We're locked inside."

Crabbe bit his lip, deep in thought. Draco, livid by now, walked over to the window and pushed Goyle out of it. "The bloody window is open, you idiots - That's how."

* * *

Hermione’s eyes were mere slits as she watched the two men before her struggle to compose themselves. Both Ron and Lucius shambled around looking quite nervous as she approached them. "What's going on here? What were you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing really," Ron said, sure that Hermione would only hinder the sudden breakthrough he'd had with Mr. Malfoy.

Hermione fumed, dropping her wand to her side in disappointment. "Fine, don't tell me. Coming from the two of you it must have been babbling nonsense anyhow."

"So, you sent the ransom note off?" Ron asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, of course I did," she replied, looking very smug. "I wonder how many Death Eaters he'll send when he returns Harry to us. How many unfortunate Death Eaters who will fall into my trap."

"Hermione!" Ron screeched, gritting his teeth and running his hand across his throat to signal her to stop talking.

"Trap?" Lucius asked. "What trap? You don't intend on releasing me?"

"Ha!" she bellowed, throwing her head back in laughter. "No, I have no intention of releasing you! As a matter of fact I'm planning on capturing as many Death Eaters as I can. They all need to know what your master really is. And if they won't believe me…" She drew her wand up, pointing it at his heart. "I'm not playing around anymore. I will break this curse he's put on you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll not give up until you realise…or die."

* * *

"I want to also apologise for umm, you know…" Tom tipped his head, avoiding direct eye contact with Harry. "I wasn't really the same person then. Your parents were difficult. I'd heard there was this child of my equal that could destroy me and I just went mad. I wanted to spare your mum, but she was just so…" Harry growled at him through his gag. He was bound head to toe in a chair, forced to listen to the Dark Lord's heartfelt misgivings. "You know I'd remove that if you would stop spitting on me," he said, nudging his finger into the silky cloth laced between his captor's teeth. Harry looked away in irritation.

"Don't you think I've changed? Haven't I given you my trust? I came to kill you, Harry, I won't deny that; but I couldn't. Instead, I fell in love with you." Tom cupped Harry's chin, looking deep into his eyes. "I mean that. I'm not the same person I was before. Something- something has changed since I meddled with that blasted Horcrux and gained my youth back. I feel things I've never felt before, like love and sympathy. Please believe me."

Harry's expression softened as he twisted at the magical rope binding his wrists behind his back. Voldemort turned away for a moment rubbing his chin. "I could make you love me, you know. My mother made my father love her." He pivoted on his heel to face Harry, looking wild-eyed. "It would be painless. You wouldn't have to think anymore thoughts about what I've done."

Harry shook his head 'No'.

"I've made my apologies. I haven't owned up to blame for anything since I started Hogwarts. Doesn't that mean anything?" Loud thumping and groans of pain echoed in through the walls, unnerving Tom to no end. He walked over to a large wardrobe adjacent to the bed and opened it. "We have to find somewhere else to go. Those boys are more trouble than they're worth."

* * *

Draco tiptoed through the garden in the back of the château like a cat. Silently, he made his way back into the home, followed by the others stomping loudly behind him, stepping on every brittle twig in their path. "Could you possibly be any louder? Maybe the Dark Lord is hard of hearing and won't be able to figure out which way we've gone," he griped, pausing to turn and sneer at them.

Crabbe frowned. "But I thought we didn't want him to know which way-Ahh!" he cried, rubbing his cheek. Draco glared at him as he drew back his hand but said nothing, he placed a finger to his lips and pointed to the front door. "Okay, sorry. Just don't hit me no more, there's still brambles stuck all over me from falling in those bushes." Goyle whimpered as he too found himself plucking thorns from the seat of his pants.

"Keep moving, we've got to find a way to get Potter out of here," said Draco, continuing on towards the front of the house.

* * *

Nestled deep within the Malfoy's private library, Tom sat hunched over a desk scanning over maps of the world. "Here," he said, pointing out a large land mass across the ocean from where they were. "We could go to America. I have this pen pal there we could shack up with, her name's Ravyyyn BryghteyZ and she's a misunderstood and extremely powerful pure-blood dark witch and distant cousin of Snape's-"he began, but Harry snapped and cut him off.

"Don't you dare try and sneak a Mary Sue into this story! Besides, Hermione and Ron's here; they're the only family I've got left no thanks to you."

With a bang, Tom shoved back from the desk and stood up, running his long fingers through his hair. "It was only a suggestion. The point of hiding away from the world is 'hiding', Harry, not sticking close with your friends. We can't start over in this country and not be noticed. The whole wizarding world is looking for us."

Harry crossed his arms and leaned back against a shelving of books. "Maybe I don't want to hide. I'm not the one they're looking for for notorious reasons, you know."

Tom sighed heavily. "We're fighting again. You promised to stop nitpicking me if I untied you, remember?"

"I guess…"

With one clean sweep, Tom pushed the maps covering the desktop to the floor. He reached out, grasping Harry's forearm and whirled him around and pinned him down against the desk. "C'mon now, I hate when we fight. Don't you want to just forget about the silly past and move on?" he said into the boy's heated face.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll never forget what you've done, so stop asking me to."

"I understand," replied Tom, frowning. He stood up and adjusted his shirt, feeling suddenly uneasy. A wave of self pity and sadness washed over him. It was something he wasn't used to experiencing. "I really…I really am sorry, Harry."

Taken aback as he straightened his own self out, Harry cocked his head like a dog as he stared into Tom's eyes. "You really are, aren't you? You're not just saying it to get to me, I can feel it."

Dumbstruck, Tom merely nodded.

Harry took a few steps back, leaned against a wall and cleared his throat. "I may never forget, Tom. I can't forget something so life changing and painful as to what you've done to me and everyone else who's ever only wanted the best for our world…but I can try and forgive you."

Voldemort smiled a truly genuine smile. "I'd really like to earn that forgiveness. There's something here, something between us that is unbreakable and pure, making me feel things I've never wanted to feel before. I've never had any friends but now I can see why they're important. I've never wanted love — but now it's here and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Believe me, I've tried."

"Oh? How so?" said Harry, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Let's just say it's a good thing you don't like chicken much."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But you ate more than I did! Are you telling me you poisoned my food?"

Tom waved his hands up in self defence. "I'm merely saying I thought about it. That is all."

"When did you decide to not kill me?"

With a soft smile, Tom walked over and took Harry into his arms. They held each otherin the still of the library; Harry entranced with the hum of Tom's beating heart and him nuzzling his chin in a mass of wild black hair. "It was that very night, that very same night."


	6. Dark Lord No More!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of the two lovers hangs (over Crabbe and Goyle's shoulders) in the balance.

Draco peeked around the corner as the three Slytherin boys entered the library. His hand flew up to his mouth as he gasped, seeing Potter pinned down to the desk with the Dark Lord on top of him. “He’s sacrificing him or something!” He drew his wand up and shouted, “- _Stupify_ -!” stunning the boy on top.

“Tom?” Harry cried, now fully pinned beneath the handsome boy’s frame when they were merely snogging a moment before. “What’s going on?”

Draco, Vincent and Gregory ran over to them, lifting the unconscious boy off of the Gryffindor. Draco helped Harry stand. “You alright?”

Harry gave him a nod. “I’m fine…what are you doing? Stop that. Put him down,” he said, reaching out to stop the two larger boys from manhandling Tom.

“Oh no, he’s charmed your memories so you’ll protect him,” Draco said, cringing. “Sorry about this, Potter, - _Stupify_ \- but I need to get my father back and I can’t muck around with fixing your sad little broken mind right now.” He pointed to the Gryffindor while he conjured up a bit of rope, tossing it to Crabbe while he stood over Tom. “Tie them both up. I’ll make a portkey to Hogsmeade. We’ll give them both to Granger in exchange for my father. You-Know-Who’s never going to forgive us for kidnapping Potter away from him anyway, let’s let the good guys deal with him.”

* * *

Tom was watching Harry out of the corner of his eye trying to judge whether he was unhurt. It was hard to tell as he was slung over Crabbe’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes while Harry was being carried over Goyle’s. It was very dark outside, and Draco was walking between them hindering his already dim view of the boy of his dreams. This new sense of worry for him clouded any thoughts of escape or his own fate.

“There it is,” Draco said, pointing. “They’re in there.”

As he moved, Tom caught sight of Harry once more. He was looking back at him. “Are you okay?” he asked him as quietly as possible.

“I’m hanging in there,” Harry teased. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Potter, I just want you to know that this was the best thing that’s ever happened to me and if I never see you again I’d rather be dead. They’re probably going to kill me once we get delivered anyway. I need to say this before it’s too late: I just want you to know before I die that I more than just fancy you…I truly, deeply love you.”

Harry gasped. “Gods, Tom. I love you, too. I really do. I won’t let them kill you, I-”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco said. He punched Goyle’s arm. “They shouldn’t be talking to each other. Why aren’t they gagged?”

Goyle shrugged. “You didn’t tell us to.”

Draco sneered at him. “Why do I have to tell you to do every single detail? Why doesn’t your brain work right?”

Again, Goyle shrugged at him. “Geez, I’m sorry. I’ll do it now.”

Draco shoved him forward. “No sense, we’re here.”

* * *

Hermione gasped, seeing the three dark silhouettes approaching the shack. “It looks like Draco Malfoy and his toadies! And they’ve got Harry! And they’re carrying someone else, hmm.” Lucius cringed, wanting to scream to Draco to run away but the girl’s wand was poking him in the neck, daring him to make a sound. “Ron, go stun them. Do the ferret first!”

“They brought a ferret with them?” Lucius gawked at her. “Why would you stun a defenceless animal?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Hermione warned him, giving his neck another rude poke.

* * *

As they approached the perimeter of the Shrieking Shack, Draco’s eyes lit up the instant Ron walked through the door. “Oh, hey, Weasley, you’re not going to believe who I’ve brought- wait!” he cried, before falling to the ground as a stunner spell smacked him in the chest.

Lord Voldemort’s bonds vanished. Without leaving Crabbe’s shoulder, he threw his hand out and called Draco’s wand.

Goyle dropped Harry on the ground as he struggled to defend himself but it was too late. He fell to the ground next to him, and the magical rope he’d tied Harry up with disappeared as well. Getting to his feet, Harry was yanked up with an arm around his neck. Tom was holding him and pointing his wand back at Ron. Crabbe was lying on the ground beside him.

“Let him go,” Ron said, taking care to keep the taller boy in his sites. “We’ll give you Malfoy for Harry, he’s just inside here. We don’t want any trouble, Death Eater.”

“Ron, put your wand down, he won’t hurt you.” Harry looked back over his shoulder. “You won’t hurt him, right? Changed man and all that, remember? This is your chance to prove yourself, Tom.”

Voldemort ignored him, keeping his focus on Ron. “We’ll do the swap right here out in the open. You send Malfoy out here and I’ll let Potter go.” And though his words sounded sincere his arm toughened around his captive.

Ron turned to leave but something about that boy standing behind Harry caught his attention. Blinking, he took a closer look at him. He shook his wand, recognising his likeness. “Hey, I know you. There’s a shrine dedicated to you in the basement of Riddle House!” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Is Malfoy your boyfriend or something? He’s the one that built it.”

Tom cupped his hand over his hostage’s mouth before he could speak. It appeared the ginger boy didn’t know his true identity yet. “Send him out, please, preferably tonight. Got things to do and all that.” Harry went stiff in his arms. He began making a great amount of huffing noises. “What?” he asked him, freeing him the moment Ron disappeared back inside the shack.

Harry glared at him over his shoulder. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? You’re not letting me go.”

Tom clapped his hand back over his mouth to shut him up. “Yes, I have changed and no, I’m not letting you go. We’ve been over this hundreds of times already. I’m never letting you go again- What?!” He pulled his hand away again feeling the other boy tense back up.

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you meant figuratively speaking not that I’m going to be your personal Damsel-in-Distress for the rest of my life!”

“Shh, they’re coming out.” He pulled the prisoner back into his clutches as Ron, Hermione and Lucius stepped out onto the garden. He flicked his wand at them, beckoning them closer. “Nice and slow, now. Let him go and I’ll give you Potter here in exchange.”

Hermione smirked at him. “That’s not how it works, _Lord Voldemort_. You let Harry go first and I’ll think about not murdering Malfoy and his pathetic son there.”

Voldemort’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, clever girl. You’ve figured everything out, have you? I can see that we’re at a standoff.”

“Standoff?” Ron shook his head. “No, we’re at the Shrieking Shack.”

Hermione made a sobbing noise in her throat. “Stop talking, Ron.” She looked back at Voldemort. “You’re far too evil to make it this easy. You have no plans on letting him go.”

“You have no plans on letting him go, either.” He pointed at Lucius, who was weeping at the sight of his master gracing him with his presence once more.

“I knew you’d come to rescue me, my Lord. This little Muggle born girl is so bossy, please take me home now.”

Harry pulled Voldemort’s hand away from his mouth to reason with everyone. “Look, I’m fine, he’s not going to hurt me. As strange as it may sound,” he said, pulling Tom’s arm around him and nuzzling into his embrace, “we’ve fallen madly in love with each other. Let’s everyone lower our wands and talk this out in proper fashion.”

Not only did Hermione not lower her wand, her arm stiffened, her eyes bulged out and her mouth dropped open to scream as loud as she could at hearing Harry saying those horrible words and watching him snuggle with Lord Voldemort. “You foul demon! You’ve enthralled him with your Veela powers, too! How could you!?”

“Veela powers?” Tom and Harry said in unison, looking back at her in confusion.

She held up his birth records. “I’ve got proof right here. He is one quarter Veela, Harry. His powers were most likely destroyed when he tried to murder you when you were a baby and reactivated when he regained control of his old body. That’s why everybody worships him and why you _think_ you’re in love with him.”

Both boys gasped.

“That’s not true!” Tom cried, feeling helpless and heartbroken.

“But…but why is everyone acting like love-sick fools around me, too?” Harry asked her, baffled.

Hermione looked to the side for a moment, then threw a finger up in the air. “Your scar!” she shouted. “Like being a Parselmouth, he transferred some Veela power to you through it.”

“No…” Dejected, Harry slumped in Tom’s arms, unwilling to keep his legs from buckling.

On the other side of the coin, Tom was furious. His arm anchored Harry to him as he scowled at the girl. “Thanks for destroying all of the trust he’s put in me!” Feeling helpless, he tipped his head to Lucius but avoided his yearning gaze. “I’m really sorry about this, Lucius. Err, good luck,” he said to the man the instant before he apparated away, taking Harry with him.

Lucius fell to his knees, betrayed and abandoned by the man of his dreams. Ron gave his shoulder a pat while Hermione got to work on levitating her three new prisoners into the depths of the Shrieking Shack. Lucius sobbed, leaning against his new friend’s leg for comfort. Ron crouched down beside him, giving him a hug. “It’s not your fault. Men are scum.”

Lucius sniffled through a nod. “Ain’t that the truth.”

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and glanced around the dimly lit room he currently found himself in. The ceiling was so high it was hidden in shadow. He pushed himself up to rub the sleep from his eyes, positive he was just imagining things and he did not just wake up inside of the Chamber of Secrets. Still trouser-less and wearing Malfoy’s pj top, he merely shrugged at Tom while gesturing to the skeleton of the basilisk he’d killed four years back. “Wow, didn’t really think this through, did you? Not my first choice of places to take a walk down memory lane together while you’re trying to convince me that you’re a changed man.”

Tom sighed. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go where we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

Harry was still scanning the area in awe. “This place terrifies me. Like, it’s one of my worst memories ever. You tried to murder me with a gigantic snake monster when I was a twelve year old child, Tom.” He frantically pointed at the statue of Salazar Slytherin while staring at the other boy with huge eyes. “Right over there!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pouting. “It was this place or the Little Hangelton Graveyard or the Mudblood Relocation Camp we were setting up for when I took over the world, but I thought those two choices might offend you a little bit more than this place, so…”

“Gods, really?” Harry scooted away from the other boy as he plopped down beside him. “And to think I gave up my virginity to you. Stay over there.”

“Oh, Merlin.” Tom gaped back at him. “I’m not doing that anymore! I already told you I’ve changed.”

Harry dropped his head to his chest, feeling quite defeated. “Fine, you’ve changed because you’re part Veela and now I’m stuck with its power because of it. It seems to be a lot stronger than I recall Fleur’s allure being, too. Like it’s super charged or maybe it’s because you’re so powerful…People are going to be throwing themselves at us for the rest of our lives. We’re stuck with each other. What are we going to do?”

“~ _We’re going to deal with it._ ~” Tom looked off into the room, sighing. “~ _All I wanted to do was make you happy, but I’m a failure._ _I’ve ruined everything,_ ~” he said sadly, feeling pathetic.

Harry, on the other hand, perked up with newfound interest. “Say that again,” he whispered, swooning off balance.

Tom looked away from the snake sculpture he had been staring at. “Sorry, what?”

“~ _You were brooding with self-pity in Parseltongue. It sounded really hot_.~” Harry was looking at the sculpture now.

“Ooh,” Tom said, purring. He focused back on the sculpture while he scooted closer to Harry. “~ _You mean like this? This sounds hot?_ ~”

Harry scooted closer to Tom. “~ _Yes, just like that. Very, very hot. I’m on fire._ ~”

“ _~I was just about to ask you if it was hot in here or was it just me.~_ ” He leaned over Harry, easing him back against the ground.

“ _~Oh, it’s definitely you,~_ ” Harry said against Tom’s lips as they pressed against his. _“~But what if this is all about you being one quarter Veela?~”_

Tom brushed the fringe away from the boy’s eyes. _“~Have you ever been around a Veela before, Harry?~”_

“~ _Yeah, sure._ ~”

Tom kissed him very softly. _“~Did it feel anything like this?~”_

Goosebumps rose up over Harry’s skin. He shivered, arching into Tom’s embrace. “ _~No, not at all.~”_

Tom smiled. _“~Yeah, it’s nothing like this.~”_ And although he could have stayed this way forever, in the arms of The-Boy-Who-Lived, something inside of him began to wane; a feeling of betrayal for someone he’d up and abandoned when he was so frightened and alone. “Hey…I, umm, I feel really bad about…”

“Yeah,” Harry said back to him, smiling a regretful smile. “I understand. Let’s put an end to this once and for all.” He took Tom’s hand as they both stood. They walked out of the Chamber of Secrets for the last time; sealing it behind them, never to return.

* * *

**One Year Later**

At the head of the class on the first day back to school for Harry and all of his fellow seventh year classmates, the returning teacher cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone settle down. Welcome back to Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts…Oh, Merlin help me, not again.” He held his wand up and shot off a spray of dangerous sparks over his head. “Do I have your attention now? This is serious business, people, so I really need you all to stop that cat-calling and kissy noises you’re doing. As you seventh year students can see, we have some returning alumni here getting yet another refresher course on their skills. They’re still trying, although not as well as I’d hoped, to learn how to be civilised witches and wizards in a world we’re still settling into; that being mixed with Muggle born equals.”

Several of the older students in the back of the room groaned. Hermione tore from her dream-like state directed at her professor to glower at them. “You heard the man - equals, accept it and shut up!”

“I really don’t need to be here. May I be excused?” asked Severus Snape.

Professor Whowhatshisname ignored him to tip his head to the girl. “Thank you, Ms Granger. Now where was I?”

Draco Malfoy threw his hand up in the air. “Didn’t you say something about kissy lessons? I’ve already picked my partner, as you can see. Can we use that anti chamber back there behind you or what? I’m not doing this in front of an audience.”

“Let me go, Malfoy!”

Crabbe blanched. “Don’t start this up again, Draco, his owl attacks _me_ whenever _you_ do this to him!”

The professor rolled his eyes as he propped his fists on his hips. “Draco, please release Harry so he can return to his seat. We’ve been over this.”

“Did he say ‘kissy’ because I heard killy, and I’m all up for that. Bring him back here, Draco- Oh yes, I forgot again, I promised not to say that anymore, my Lo… Professor.”

“Wow, thank you, Lucius. You’re getting much better at catching yourself before you strike. I’m very proud of you.”

Lucius smiled brightly and tossed him a wink. “And I’m proud of you!”

The teacher cringed. “Okay, it’s getting weird. Everyone take out your wands, please.”

A chubby boy pointed to the back of the room, looking very worried. “Uh, I’m pretty sure now that that’s Bellatrix Lestrange back there. She’s, uh, she’s looking at me again, Professor, just like she did all last year. Please do something about this.”

“You mean Voldie’s Lady? She’s not going to do anything or stare at you anymore, _isn’t that right, Voldie’s Lady? Not putting up with this again this year. Stop terrorising Mr Longbottom here before he realises it really is who he thinks you are and goes to the Ministry, okay_?”

Voldie’s Lady slammed one of her clawed hands onto the top of the desk. “I’m not gonna hurt him…much!”

The teacher smiled through his worried expression. “You’re not going to hurt him at all. In fact, uh put your wand away, nice and slow, drop it, take your hand back…that’s a good girl. Now get your fingernails unstuck and sit on your hands. Good, right. Tormwail, I’m putting you in charge of babysitting her. If she goes and does what I think she really wants to do I’m holding you responsible, understood?”

“That’s not fair!”

The professor’s jaw dropped wide open and slammed his fist on the desk for added drama. “Life isn’t fair! Look at where I’m stuck working and who I’m stuck with trying to turn into better people to make up for all the horrible things we’ve done over the last fifty or so years. I’m doing my part, you do yours!”

“The teacher’s eyes are literally glowing red right now!”

Harry swiped his hand across his throat in quick succession, signalling him to nix the anger. “Calm down, Professor. ~ _Take a deep breath, your evil is showing again.~_ ”

“Oh, sorry.” he cringed as he put a pair of sunglasses on.

The Chosen One thrummed his fingertips on his table. “Did you take the medication that I laid out for you this morning?”

The teacher began biting a hangnail. “I did…I think.”

Harry gave off a look of chagrin. “Not good. We’ll have to discuss this after class…preferably alone…in your chambers.”

“Seriously? You’re hitting on him in the classroom during class? What part of ‘Veela’ do you still not understand?”

Harry grinned. “You stare at him more than I do during class, Hermione. Nuff said.”

“She does not!” Ron said, before looking at Hermione. “Do you?”

“Course not,” Hermione replied while staring dreamily at the professor. “Just like you never stared at Romilda Vane last year.”

“I ate chocolate spiked with her love potion, ‘mione! You know that!”

“What about Lavender Brown? She spike your chocolate, too?”

Harry dropped his chin on a fist. “Not this again. Drop it, Hermione, you know he can’t match wits with you.”

“Uhh…Viktor Krum!” Ron spat back.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes never leaving the handsome teacher standing at the head of the class. “Shh, too late. I’m busy.”

“So wait, who is this bloke again?” Ron asked her, pointing to the teacher. “He looks really familiar.”

Hermione growled lowly and mouthed the words, “you owe me big time” to Harry before patting her boyfriend’s hand. “He’s nobody special. Just a man Professor Dumbledore is giving a second chance to, in order to right some of the wrongs he’s done to the wizarding world. As much as I hate to admit it, I think he’s doing a fine job so far.”

Harry beamed- and then vanished.

The professor gasped and ran toward the exit. “Oh no you don’t! Put him back, Goyle, I don’t care if Lucius said his son could have him!”

Draco slumped in his chair. “But I always get what I want.”

The flustered teacher escorted Harry back to his table while looking over his shoulder at the elder Malfoy.

Lucius gave him an impish grin. “Forgive me, force of habit.”

Hermione gave Goyle a surprising nod. “That was good, I didn’t catch you taking him this time. You’re definitely improving.”

“Thanks, Mudbl-mm‘mione.” Goyle looked around the room. Almost everyone was glaring back at him, except a select few of the older students in the back of the room. “Sorry. I’m still learning. Ask Draco, I have loads of brain problems.” Draco gave her a sad nod in agreement.

Hermione shrugged. “Alright, I forgive you.”

The teacher pulled his wand back out and magically locked the door. “Mr Snape, I did not give you permission to leave. You, of all people, need to learn to tolerate Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods. _Sit_!”

Throwing his wand in the air and dropping into his high-backed chair, the mystery teacher sighed as he scanned over the room until he landed on the most most beautiful vision ever to grace his eyes. Harry smiled at him and blew him a kiss, and everything in the world came together once more. Despite the loss of power, immortality, world domination and the riches that came with it, the former Dark Lord smiled back the most genuine smile, missing none of it. He had all he wanted now.

* * *

Through the dimly lit corridor on the seventh floor of Hogwarts Castle Harry gave Tom a healthy shove, prodding him on. “It’s not silly. Think harder. Stop pretending like you didn’t know this room existed, I know you better than that.”

With a sigh, Tom paced in front of the wall thinking very hard about what Harry and he wanted to do that evening.

“Yes!” Harry shouted and pumped his fist, watching the door to the Room of Requirement appear before their eyes. He threw his back against it and took Tom by the hand to open it and pull the other boy inside with him. “Yeah, this’ll work,” he murmured, looking around the room. Low torchlight flickered on the walls. There were several sofas beneath them with a large furry rug, the size of the Prefects bath, resting in the middle. Harry nodded with approval. He fell back against one of the sofas, pulling Tom down on top of him in the process. “Come here, you.” Soft music played in the background. The room itself smelled like thick strawberry foam. The temperature was set to ‘perfect’. Harry draped his arms around Tom’s neck to draw him in for a kiss. “You looked so pathetic during class, I just had to bring you here to cheer you up.”

“Always the hero, aren’t you?” Tom murmured as his eyes drifted closed. “Making things right seems to be your job.”

“Not in this story,” Harry corrected him as their lips brushed and parted. “You’re the hero. My hero.”

The door to the room opened and closed. Ron and Hermione staggered, lips pressed firmly together and arm in arm, inside. Tom and Harry gasped, their heads turned to the side to gape at them. Ron and Hermione were gaping back. “Oh, uhh…” Hermione said, shrugging. “Mind if we…” She looked over to an empty sofa then back at the boys with Bambi eyes.

Tom and Harry returned the gesture. “Sure, whatever.”

All four resumed back into their snogging when the door opened and closed again and Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass stumbled inside, body parts wrapped around other body parts, with loads of kissing and squeaky noises filling the room. The other occupants broke from their snogging; everyone was looking at each other in stunned silence for a moment before the four of them already on a sofa pointed to another, unoccupied, piece of furniture.

The six inhabitants now drifted off into passion; hands sliding up skirts, fingers disappearing under waistbands. Little moans and mewls collided with the hypnotising music. None of them heard the door to the room open once more.

Crabbe and Goyle fell inside and wiggled about until they reached the furry rug. “Uh,” Harry said, nudging Tom. Again, everyone in the room gawked at the new arrivals - until it didn’t seem all that strange anymore. Every couple pressed their lips back together, back to business.

“Nope, I’m out,” Tom said, pushing up from the sofa the moment the door opened again and Hagrid and Professor Sprout tumbled inside.

“Get back here.” Harry yanked him down. “Ignore them, c’mon. I’m so hot right now.”

“Fine,” Tom said, melting back over the boy to press their lips together. “Maybe we should lock the- Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” he muttered, watching the blasted thing swing open again. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald fell inside as one, not even bothering to look up to notice anyone else in the room.

Harry righted his face so that he could see only him again. The door knob jiggled at that moment and Tom tensed up and glared down at the boy beneath him. “Is this your idea of a sick joke? Are you angry with me or something?”

Hagrid was making the strangest noises, grunting so loudly hardly anyone noticed when Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room and tripped over the Headmaster and the former second-most-evil-wizard-in-the-world only to land solidly on top of Tom and Harry. “This could not possibly get any worse,” Tom said, but Harry fretted at those words, seeing the door part again with the frame.

“Yeah, what you just said… Uh, eyes here, just focus on me. Nothing else exists. C’mon, you can do it.” Harry tried his best to keep Tom from looking at the door, unfortunately…

Lucius stepped inside holding a pair of heart-patterned knickers up to his nose. He froze, eyes locked with Tom’s, both men knowing damned well whose knickers those were that he was sniffing. “Get up,” the ex-Dark Lord said under his breath, giving Harry a shove. “Move to the door right now, no stopping. Don’t look him directly in the eye. Let’s go.”

Lucius dropped the pants and fell to his knees as Tom shoved Harry past him through the door. “Please forgive me, Master, I still can’t help myself! You think I haven’t tired? I’m in counselling, for Mordred’s sake!”

“Oh, for me?” Having landed on the Headmaster’s face, he held them up, grinning cheek to cheek as if he’d been given a warm pair of socks. He pecked his one-sided lover on the lips. “You shouldn’t have!”

Grindelwald smile-cringed. “Yeah, I know, right? I’m so good to you…”

Slamming the door behind him, and only after pacing back and forth in front of it again to wish it away forever, Tom shoved Harry up against the wall.

Harry threw his hands up in defence. “For the record, the only part I planned involved Ron and Hermione, I swear to Merlin!”

Tom’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “I can tell when you lie to me, Harry. That’s my thing.”

“Okay, and Hagrid, but I didn’t know he was bringing Professor Sprout!”

“What, was he just going to sit there and watch us?” Tom asked him, utterly disgusted. “What kind of twisted…no, don’t answer that.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We were going to watch a movie, troll. It’s not my fault the only thing on everyone’s minds anymore is sex! You thought the room up, not me!”

With another brooding suspire, Tom nodded. “We do seem to have that effect on everyone, don’t we?”

Harry winked at him. “We sure do, honey.”

“Ooh,” Tom said, purring in his throat. He stepped back in front of the wall and began to pace. “Let’s give this one more try.”

Harry stayed against the wall, ogling the gorgeous Heir of Slytherin as he roamed back and forth three times, causing a door to reappear. He pushed away, letting Tom take his hand and pull him inside. But as soon as he stepped in he tried to back out. “What the hell?”

Every form of tangible evil he could imagine filled up the room. In the very centre there was a gigantic frilly-pink four poster bed. Harry began to shake as Tom dragged him into the room. “Uh, there’s a Dementor in the corner. Me and them don’t mix well at all. _Gonna faint…so cold…room’s gone dark…fading fast…_ ” He pulled his wand with a limp hand and wobbled it about, trying desperately to cast a Patronus before he passed out.

“Oh, give me a break!” Tom wrangled the boy into his arms and dropped him onto the mattress. “These are all just stuffed toys. I tried to think up a room no one else could come up with. Give me a little credit, please.” As he spoke, the knob jiggled. He dashed across the room and slammed it back shut. His eyes were wild. “Most importantly, one with a lock on the door, that is!” He slid the bolt into place and dove back onto the bed to take the boy in his arms.

Harry was still fixed on the plush Dementor, unable to look away. “I think it moved, Tom,” he whispered.

“Come here.” Tom cupped his face in his hands; he was so beautiful, so innocent, so frightened. Riddle’s mouth roved along his cheeks, kissing them rosy, bringing them to life. And Harry gave in to its ardour as it took the chill from his skin and the fear from his mind. Tom leaned over kissing those plush lips while he warmed his body with his own. His reverential touches brought tears to their eyes and sighs to their throats. All tension melted off through the heat of the kiss, so slow and purposeful. The yearning sensuality roared through their bloodstreams, even through the resounding sounds of pounding fists slamming against the door.

This was everything. There was no hiding, no more headaches. He was a true hero at last, something he never thought to be. And as all heroes do, he got the guy in _the end_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it give me kudos, please!


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